Shepard Girls
by madame.alexandra
Summary: In this very au continuation, Jenny is the girl Gibbs meets in high school - his first love, until some unexpected teenage mistakes change their lives, and the paths they take, forever. Jibbs-oriented, 2nd part of a 4 part series. This part focuses on Jenny Natalie.
1. The Way It Was

_a/n: Here we go, here we go, here we go - with part 2 of 4 ! since Gilmore Girls, in part, inspired this story happening at all (because I asked my room mate what things would be like if Gibbs was just like, a "Christopher" dad), this part is more heavily Gilmore Girls inspired than NCIS - although I think you'll appreciate the homages to NCIS I've got in here, they get more blatant as the story goes on! Though I will say, after revisions and brainstorming, Gibbs isn't really a "Christopher" type - but you'll see._

* * *

 **Los Angeles, California: 1987**

 **The Way It Was**

* * *

It was a game that Natalie usually liked: Jenny would reach out, gently grab one of her toes, and pretend not to notice, subtly tickling the digit until Natalie was shrieking with laughter and squirming – then she'd move on to the next toe, and the next, until she snatched up the baby and bestowed a cuddly tickle hug on her – _tickle monster_ , Natalie's father had called it.

It wasn't _working_.

Jenny had two fingers on Natalie's middle toe, and two fingers pressed against the pendant she always wore, fiddling with the chain as she silently – desperately – willed the little girl to laugh. Natalie still stared at her with sullen, uncertain eyes – wary, almost mistrustful.

Jenny feebly tickled the toe, and Natalie pulled her foot away. She shifted and crawled forward, balancing on her hands and knees. She looked around and then sat, staring at Jenny with big eyes.

"Da Da," she said. She pointed, though her finger sought nothing in particular. Her mouth shook. "Mama," she whimpered.

"I know," Jenny murmured, sighing. She sat back, watching Natalie – they'd been here for days, but it felt like an eternity – long stretches of time when Jenny was lost, fumbling, not sure if she regretted what she'd done, trying to get ahold of herself and decide what to do next – and still, Natalie was confused, looking for her father – for anything familiar, really.

Jenny pushed her hair back, and tried to pull Natalie into her lap, but the toddler twisted away and stood up, walking towards the window. She grabbed at the sill and started whining, stomping one foot.

"You want to look outside?" Jenny asked softly, approaching calmly. She smoothed Natalie's hair, and then picked her up, supporting her with one arm under her behind, and looking out the condominium window with her.

Melanie Shepard lived in a nice little condo near Long Beach, elegantly decorated and not quite child friendly, but boasting of an extra room and plenty of hospitality: she seemed delighted to have her daughter staying with her, though Jenny wondered anxiously if Melanie would go back on her word that they were welcome to live with her.

It had been so long since Melanie had had to worry about anyone but herself, and Natalie was proving difficult to handle, at the moment – it was to be expected, to a certain extent, and she wasn't acting out violently or uncontrollably, she just seemed scared and unhappy. Jenny was terrified she'd irrevocably damaged her, and because of that she was confused – she hadn't really thought Natalie was old enough to notice a big change.

But what did she know?

"I don't know anything," Jenny murmured in Natalie's ear, staring at the landscape outside the condo – this window looked out on a courtyard, framed by a neat little path that led off towards an alcove. Jenny knew that there was a small play area in that alcove, but even after a mere few days, she got the sense Natalie was one of the only – if not the only – children in the building.

It was a very sleek, chic kind of single-fashionista-in-her-thirties place. Perfect for Melanie – though Jenny's mother was in her mid forties.

"Look at the pretty sunset, Bug," she whispered kindly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Natalie shuffled her feet, and pointed out the window.

"Sun-set," she repeated carefully. She made a little whining noise. "Where?" she asked. "Where?"

"Where's who?" Jenny asked patiently, wincing – she understood implicitly that Natalie was asking about someone.

"Where?" was all the little girl repeated, and Jenny wondered if she was some kind of existential wunderkind, asking where she was, and where they were going.

"Somewhere over the rainbow," Jenny answered gently, kissing the back of Natalie's head.

Natalie put her hands on the window, relying on Jenny to keep her balanced. Jenny held her tightly, and glanced over her shoulder to look about the room – it was a mess; Jenny had to get it in order somehow. She also had to find some way to put a bed in for Natalie – the room was spacious, and for now Natalie was little, but Jenny wasn't sure what to do; even at two, she'd still been in the crib in Stillwater, because it was convenient, but she was plenty old to be out of it and Jenny didn't know what to put her in.

"Mama," Natalie said, turning her head.

"What, darling?" Jenny asked obediently, arching her brows and meeting her eyes.

" _Where_ ," she said insistently. "Da da?"

Frustrated, Jenny swallowed hard – how was she capable of quantifying things like that, of understanding that they were far away – Gibbs hadn't even been _home_ when they left.

She couldn't think of anything to say, and she sighed.

"He's still at training," she said tiredly. "Remember, Natalie? Marines? Military," she said. "He's at training. He's going to stay at training," she said. "We're going to stay here," she murmured.

"Melly," Natalie said matter-of-factly, though she childishly pronounced the 'Ls' like 'Ws'.

Jenny nodded.

"Yes, we're staying with Melly," she agreed.

Natalie nodded.

"You like Melly, don't you?" Jenny asked quietly. "She's nice, and she has bath bubbles that smell delicious."

She felt like she was bribing Natalie, and trailed off. Natalie leaned back into her and still looked outside at the sunset. She sighed quietly, and Jenny wondered what she was thinking – she always wondered, almost fascinated, what was going on the mind of a toddler.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Melanie herself stepped in. She crossed her arms and leaned on the frame, one eyebrow cocked.

"How's it going?" she asked easily.

Jenny swept Natalie off the windowsill and sat her on the bed, handing her a toy and then turning to her mother. She remained alert to Natalie's movement, so she'd be aware if the little girl tried to move and risked falling, but she turned her attention to Melanie.

"Not much better," she said worriedly, her eyes stinging. "She's not – listless, she's not necessarily unhappy, she's just," Jenny sighed, swallowing hard. "That tantrum this morning, Mom, she _never_ does that," she admitted. "I've never – I've never seen her bite anyone, and I know she tore your skin."

Melanie waved her hand.

"She didn't mean it," she said effortlessly.

"But you let us stay here, and then she turns around and bites you and I'm afraid if she keeps doing that – "

"That I'll kick you out?" Melanie interrupted. She rolled her eyes. "Darling, as uninvolved a mother as I was later in your life, it was me and only me while your father was deployed and you were that age," she said, laughing. "And you were a biter."

Jenny swallowed nervously.

"I was?"

"Oh, _yes_."

Jenny glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks flushing, and shook her head a little.

"Still," she said quietly. "She's not – she's not unruly, she's never been this … stubborn, or prone to fits." Jenny hesitated. "She was always … very like Jethro," she murmured, her voice strained. "Quiet. Guarded."

Melanie pushed her hair back, and shrugged.

"Well, you've uprooted her, Jenny," she said simply, gently. "Babies at that age – toddlers – they're very sensitive to massive changes in the routine."

She said it so blithely, as if it was such common knowledge, and Jenny felt like she'd been slapped, startled to hear something like that – no, wouldn't it make more sense that the littler she was, the less of an upset the whole shaking up would be? The point of this was to pre-empt whatever divorced disaster would have ripped up her world in ten years.

"She didn't start doing this when Gibbs left," she spoke up, grasping at straws. "She was still Natalie – "

Melanie nodded, and shrugged again.

"As often as she saw the boy, though, Jenny, she still wasn't _living_ with both of you. She woke up every morning in a house with you and Jasper, and when he left, that remained the same – the only person she sees now who she recognizes is you, and even the house is strange – that's why she holds the walls when she walks," Melanie added, touching on a quirk Natalie had developed in the past few days. "She doesn't feel safe here yet."

"But babies are supposed to be adaptable," Jenny retorted, half-pleading.

"She is, she is," Melanie agreed. She pushed her hair back again. "In a month, maybe shorter, she'll think she lived here her whole life, more than likely – but still, it is a big system shock for a two-year-old, moving away from the little world she'd known all her life. Alteration of routine is a big catalyst for terrible two behavior."

Jenny's heart slammed against her chest; she felt guilty, angry, and shamed.

"I didn't know this – I've never heard any of this," she said, her voice cracking. "I thought it was better to do it now than later, I thought I was thinking like a mother –God, how can I still not know what I'm doing?" she burst out desperately.

So much for her being able to feel completely secure in her right and ability to parent – she suddenly had the brief desire to hightail it back to Stillwater and sign over custody to her father – to anyone who was more competent than her.

Melanie laughed good-naturedly.

"Oh, hon," she soothed easily. "You'll never know what you're doing," she comforted, sitting down on the edge of a short bureau. "Take _that_ from me."

Jenny stared at her, and she shook her head helplessly, her lips parted.

"I'll feel like I'm doing it right someday, though," she said. "Right?"

"Probably not," Melanie admitted lightly. She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you know – I woke up on the morning your flight came in, and I spent my entire vanity routine wondering if this was all my fault. Asking myself if you got pregnant because you didn't have a mother to talk to, or because I didn't come see you more. And maybe it is my fault," she sighed, "but…maybe if I'd been there, I'd have tried to talk to you too much, and you'd have had sex anyway."

Jenny licked her lips.

"It didn't have anything to do with you," she said softly, her brow furrowed. "I've never really – resented you. I always knew you loved me – Mom, I didn't have sex for attention or to rebel, I just…I love Jethro."

Melanie didn't respond for a moment.

"Every time your father brought up retiring and moving to Stillwater, we fought. Huge fights, knock-down-drag outs, emotionally bloody fights. You caught us one night – "

"I remember."

"—and we both _swore_ you weren't going to grow up in that kind of household. My own parents were miserable. You could sense how unhappy they were. Jasper's … your grandfather was a drunk, and back then, your grandmother couldn't have dared run off to get away."

Melanie paused thoughtfully.

"Jenny, I love you; I've never regretted having you, but I had a baby because that's what you did: you got married, and then you had a baby, and you didn't really question it. You weren't an accident, but there was no thought to what motherhood entailed. And being a mother is very hard, and it exhausted me, and your father was always a better parent than I am – his patience was better, probably because he's trained to handle anything that comes at him."

Jenny stared at her raptly, absorbed in what she was saying – her mother usually didn't talk so much, or reflect so much, but maybe that was just because Jenny had never given her enough credit.

"I thought you wanted your baby, and to marry your Marine," Melanie said. "That's why I … encouraged that, I guess. When you came to me … I told your father I wouldn't send you back by force, I won't try to tell you what to do, because it's a relief to me every day that you don't have any animosity towards me – I made a selfish decision when I sighed over full custody to your father, but if I'd stayed," she sighed softly, "I don't think you would have liked me very much."

Jenny chewed on the inside of her lip.

"I _do_ want my baby," she said. "I think I did … even when I didn't," she mused. "It just wasn't so much of a, a," she held her hand tensely near her stomach, "a crushing reality until he left, and I realized we were going to become different people – we're still growing up, we aren't who we're going to be yet, and with him away, and me there in Stillwater or left behind, wherever he deployed, we'd be strangers, in the end."

She wiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I love him so much," she whispered to the ground. "It's just not always that simple."

Melanie nodded – hadn't she said the same thing, when Jenny asked her about her own divorce? She folded her arms, and looked over Jenny's shoulder to Natalie. The little girl was playing with a Rubik's cube, concentrated on the colours. Every once in a while, she'd bite down with concentration on a corner, then roll it in her hands, and Melanie smiled.

"He's also the first and only person you've ever loved," Melanie said. "That works sometimes. Other times, it creates a very small, snow-globe world that shatters with a little pressure."

"How many men have you loved besides Daddy?" Jenny asked hoarsely.

Her mother grinned.

"We're different women, Jennifer," she remarked wryly. "I fall in love at the drop of a hat. Hundreds."

Jenny smiled a little – that carefree attitude, it really soothed her soul sometimes, when she felt too old for her age, like she was suffocating with responsibility and fear. She took a deep breath, and tried to catch her bearings.

"What are you going to do about Jethro?" Melanie asked.

Jenny pushed her hair back and swallowed tensely, wiping at her eyes. She shook her head as if she couldn't think about it at all, and folded her arms across her chest tightly, like a shield.

"I wrote him a letter," she said huskily. "I sent it on to Jackson – his father," she clarified. "Daddy wouldn't pass it on – do my dirty work," she said bitterly. "I don't know, I guess it's up to him," she managed shakily. "He gets done with training in about another two weeks, and he'll … call, or – I don't know what he'll do."

Melanie was silent.

"What will you do if he does?"

Jenny shook her head slowly.

"I don't know. I don't know."

She closed her eyes. She hadn't thought this through, not to the end, not as far as she could have, but the answers would fall into place, or reveal themselves; wildly, some of her thought it could just go on like it did, with him taking leave to see her in California, but logically, most of her knew she had done some damage to what they had, that he'd be angry, that they wouldn't work.

"Will you let him see her?" Melanie asked.

"Of course," Jenny murmured softly, turning and resting her eyes on Natalie. "We were _kidding_ ourselves," she said to herself, her brow furrowing.

Her mother was quiet, and in the silence, Jenny picked up Natalie and held her close.

"You're closer to figuring that out every day," Jenny murmured to her, tapping the Rubik's cube. "Jethro got it for her," she added quietly, again, almost to herself.

Natalie held it up. She smiled sweetly. Jenny kissed her forehead.

"Your father gave you an ultimatum?" Melanie asked carefully.

Jenny nodded.

"The end of the month, or he cuts me off," she repeated dryly. She swallowed, bracing herself.

"Will you go back?" Melanie asked.

Jenny held her breath, taking the Rubik's cube from Natalie. She wondered if the little girl would solve it one of these days; turn out to be some child prodigy, some little savant. She smiled at her, and she felt scared, selfish, guilty, and unsure – but she shook her head anyway.

"No," she answered softly. "No, I can't go back. I can't face any of those people again."

She hesitated, and looked up.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing," she admitted wearily.

Her mother gave her a look that was devoid of judgment or opinion; she just smiled simply, and said:

"It doesn't matter if you know or not. Do it like you're confident you're right."

Jenny blinked, taken aback – and she leaned against the bed, resolved to take that advice to heart. Maybe it was bad advice, maybe it was naïve advice, but it seemed like it could do her a world of good – it's what Gibbs had done, when he joined the Marines; it's what she would do, to at least make sure that if nothing else, Natalie _thought_ her mother had it all together.

* * *

For an eerie three weeks, Jenny lived in calm state of surreal indifference; she forced herself not to think about Gibbs, forced herself not to dwell on what would happen when he got back to Stillwater and she wasn't there –

She explored the surrounding areas, took Natalie to the park and to the beach, made lists only to cross them all out and make new lists, made plans only to tear the plans up and make new ones – she tried to figure out what she was doing, and very carefully tried not to think about anything else. But it was all so connected – that it was difficult. She'd get halfway through planning something for Natalie – like how she was going to take care of childcare – and have to turn her attention somewhere else, because her mind went to Gibbs.

So for three weeks – three weeks – she lived almost as if Natalie had no father at all, as if she'd just burst into being like the gender-swapped celestial Christ, and it was relaxing in a way that was so frail, and so breakable – that it predictably came shattering to pieces on the day she knew his training had ended and he'd be back in Stillwater.

She woke up that morning nervous; stunned she hadn't received a call from Pennsylvania, with him screaming at her, ripping her apart, demanding to know why she'd done what she'd done – and then, when that didn't happen, when it appeared he hadn't gotten home early and then called through a three hour time difference to shout at her, she started the day in an almost catatonic state of anxious stress, silently and mechanically wondering when it was going to happen.

As the hours went on, it _didn't_.

 _Nothing_ happened.

The absence of a hugely dramatic event did not make her feel relieved; it only served to make her muscles coil tighter, her emotions tense up to the brittle breaking point – because she knew it had to happen, and she had expected and planned for this day and –

Nothing.

Even afternoon, as Natalie lay sleeping in her lap, and Jenny herself half-heartedly and tensely perused college material – there was nothing. She waited on tenterhooks; she felt jittery and breakable, and every sudden noise startled her as much as if it really _were_ the screaming of a telephone.

She alternated between tapping her foot anxiously, and then forcing herself to be still so she wouldn't wake Natalie.

She turned another page in the brochure she was looking at, hardly reading the words at all. She really should be worried about getting her GED, before she decided on any of this – and she didn't have the money for it now, anyway, but she wanted to feel like she was doing something.

Natalie opened her eyes blearily and looked at her, shifting her head. She blinked sleepily and then snuggled closer, burying her face in Jenny's arm.

"Mama," she mumbled lazily, and fell back to sleep.

Jenny grinned and smiled at her, patting her back rhythmically. She rocked a little, turning another page in the brochure. It was for San Diego State University – somewhere she probably shouldn't even be realistically looking at – and it was full of glossy pictures advertising everything she wanted.

Her mother waltzed into the room, heels clicking beautifully on the well-kept hardwood floors. She smelled faintly of hair spray, and strongly of some expensive perfume, and she went right for the kitchen, breezing past Jenny.

"Jennifer," she began loudly.

"Natalie's asleep," Jenny warned.

"Jennifer," Melanie corrected, quieting her words. The elder woman cleared her throat, pouring herself a glass of lemonade and setting her purse on the counter. "What on earth are you doing in that bedroom?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Jenny mumbled. "Oh," she said, turning slightly, careful not to wake her daughter. "I fused together two shower curtain rods – I'm going to make something to hang, so Natalie has her own little corner of the room," she explained.

Melanie laughed softly.

"Darling, I told you she can stay in the living room. I never entertain here, anyway."

"I don't want her out there," Jenny said calmly. "If someone broke in, she'd be the first target."

Melanie arched her brow and said nothing. She wouldn't have thought to consider that, but then, she had never been a particularly paranoid or worried mother – probably because her child was across the country, in the hands of a retired Army Colonel turned Chief Cop.

"It will get crowded in that room, Jenny," she said frankly. "I know it's larger than the one at your father's, but what will you do when you need an escape from Natalie?"

Jenny blinked at her, incredulous.

"Why would I need to escape?"

Melanie tilted her head.

"Haven't you had that feeling yet?" she asked, slightly bemused.

Jenny stared at her, and shook her head slightly.

"I mean, I've wanted her to stop crying," she conceded. "But," she paused, trying to decide if she'd ever felt that desperate and unaffectionate – no, she hadn't; she'd felt all kinds of things about her life, dissatisfied things, but never directed at Natalie. "I get my strength from Natalie. She's the whole point of everything."

Melanie sighed, almost wistfully.

"That is strength," she remarked. She lowered her chin. "She'll get bigger, though," she laughed. "You'll both need space. I'm sorry I don't have a room for her – "

"Mom, Mom," Jenny murmured, flushing. "I'm hoping … I can be in my own apartment, by the time she's needing, you know, lots of privacy."

Jenny paused, and sighed shakily.

"Okay, um, I'll see how it goes, and maybe think about it," she started hesitantly, worried suddenly.

Melanie clicked her tongue.

"I don't mean to criticize, Jenny," she said blithely. "I don't mind where Natalie sleeps. She's hardly big or troublesome."

"I think you're the only person who doesn't call a two-year-old troublesome," Jenny muttered.

Melanie laughed, musically.

"Well, you've never dealt with a D-list actor whose scene in a major blockbuster was cut," she trilled, winking.

She finished off her glass, and then touched her finger to her lips.

"Do I need to retouch my lipstick?" she asked.

Jenny glanced at her, and nodded – Melanie wasn't someone who wanted to be told lies just to soothe her, she wanted to be told if she needed to look more perfected, and Jenny was fine with obliging that. Melanie disappeared to fix the lipstick, and Jenny shifted her knees slightly, closing the San Diego State brochure.

She pulled one for Stanford towards her wistfully, and chewed the inside of her lip bitterly. She didn't even know why she'd picked it up, except maybe to torture herself.

She stared at it a moment, then picked up her permanent marker, wrote Natalie's name on it in block letters, and tucked it away in a folder – then she picked up a brochure for one of the California State campuses, and focused on that.

"What should Mommy study, Natalie?" she murmured.

Melanie came clicking back in, ready to head out – Jenny had never been sure exactly what her mother did for a living, but she never seemed to have to do it before noon. Meanwhile, Jenny was up with a toddler at six a.m., trying to keep her quiet while Melanie slept and she exhausted herself by the child's naptime.

Melanie crouched beside the kitchen table to press a kiss to her granddaughter's nose.

"Don't wake her up," hissed Jenny gently – Natalie had gone to sleep, bored, on her own terms, and that was a miracle; nap time was usually a fight, and Jenny didn't want Natalie to realize she was voluntarily giving in, even if it was a little early.

Melanie nodded, and looked up.

"It's sweet how you let her sleep on you," she murmured, scrunching up her nose admiringly and standing back up.

Jenny arched a brow, hardly glancing up from the California State brochure.

"She's my child," she said, unperturbed.

Melanie laughed.

"Honey, when you fell asleep, I had you in the crib or the cradle so fast," she remembered, shaking her head.

Jenny rolled her eyes good-naturedly – having Melanie constantly exclaim over and remark on what a good mother she was a ridiculously relaxing change from the constant sense of disapproval or wariness she had always seemed to get from her father.

Melanie smirked.

"It's just a coffee date with this director, nothing special," she said of her appointment. "I can't tell if he wants to discuss my client's negotiations, or if he wants to see me," she added wryly. "I'll pick up dinner, if I don't go out with him – can Natalie eat Chinese?"

Jenny laughed, shaking her head a little – hopefully, Melanie would remember to call if she went out with this guy – that meaning she stayed at his place all night – but more than likely, she'd forget, and Jenny would be left wondering.

"I'll make her peanut butter and jelly," she said, silently thinking it was absurd of her mother to think she'd feed the toddler Chinese take-out.

"What's your back-up plan?" Melanie asked.

Jenny shrugged.

"I don't know, whatever she doesn't eat of the sandwich," she said lazily.

"Did you read a book on parenting?" Melanie asked, incredulous. "You're a saint."

Jenny hesitated.

"Ann said she was always so busy or tired when Gibbs was little, she just ate whatever he didn't eat."

Jenny wasn't sure if Melanie remembered that Ann was Natalie's paternal grandmother, but Melanie didn't ask or poke any further into it. Melanie started off, heels clicking – she'd said her meeting was at one, but it was after one; she was never much concerned about being on time. She paused at the kitchen doorway, and turned.

"Did he call?" she asked neutrally.

Jenny flinched, and shook her head. She looked down at Natalie, her eyes heavy, and shook her head again. She felt her mother looking at her, and she finally looked up, a tired look sweeping over her face. She pinched her nose up a little.

"I can't," she began, bewildered. "I expected him to," she said, logically. "He hasn't and I can't," she broke off again.

"You can't figure out if you should be angry," Melanie supplied easily.

"Yes, but how can _I_ be angry with _him_?"

Her mother smiled at her mysteriously, and lifted her shoulders.

"You just can."

Jenny shook her head.

"It isn't right," she said dully. "I'm not angry," she tried to convince herself.

But she was – she was livid that he hadn't called, raising hell, demanding to talk to Natalie, demanding she come back – maybe even some of her was wildly fantasizing about him flying out here to get her, sweep her back with him – but what was the point in that? And why the hell would she expect that, after what she'd done?

Thoughts like that made her feel how young and stupid and – immature she was, even now – made her realize she had so far to go.

She chewed her lip, and then put her hand down.

"But doesn't he want to talk to Natalie?" she asked out loud, frustrated.

Her teeth hit together hard, and Melanie leaned against the doorframe for a moment. She didn't say anything, but then, she'd never actually met Natalie's father – this boy who had meant so much to her daughter.

Jenny pushed her hair back, composing herself.

"No, he needs time," she murmured. "I don't even know what I'd say to him," she added desperately, her voice cracking. "Maybe I don't want him to call. But I do."

"Jennifer," Melanie said calmly, arching a brow, "Maybe you should start to prepare yourself for the idea that he took your actions to heart. Out of sight, out of mind."

Jenny stared at her, clutching Natalie.

"He wouldn't do that to her," she said, but the way she said it was hazy, guilty, confused – did he even have a choice?

Where was he stationed? Would the Marines let him have leave to see her, ever? She – Jenny – hadn't even expressed an interest in working this out, in that letter she'd left. She swallowed hard.

Melanie looked at Jenny for a moment, and tilted her head. She parted her lips, hesitated, and then pressed them together, and raised her hand in a quick, elegant goodbye.

The door to the little condo shut, and Jenny leaned back heavily – it was like she'd gotten the sense of what Melanie was going to say, and it sent a shiver through her spine –

 _Darling,_ you _did this to her._

The unspoken sentiment seemed to linger in the air, and dully, Jenny accepted it – she had, and if something went wrong, if this couldn't or didn't work out, or Gibbs never called, and he faded into a distant nothingness for Natalie, part of that was Jenny's fault.

She sat there for a long time, staring, until Natalie sat up, and rubbed her eyes, waking up. She reached for the papers, and looked at the pictures. Jenny blinked, and roused herself.

"Bug," she said quietly, kissing her cheek affectionately. "What should Mommy study?" she asked again. "Mommy never thought about it."

Mommy had just always known she was going to go to some prestigious, fancy private college – it wasn't until recently that Jenny realized she didn't know what she wanted to study, and much as she tried to remember what it had been before Natalie, she couldn't, and she accepted that she'd never known. She'd only had vague, haughty dreams of greatness.

Natalie smiled and picked up the Stanford brochure. She shrieked in happiness, and pointed to the big, block letters.

"Nat-uh-lee," she said, recognizing her name.

She could already write it; Jenny had taught her and taught her and taught her - -so she recognized it, she didn't read it, but even then – it was so heartwarming.

"Natalie," Jenny agreed, hugging her, and kissing the top of her head. "You're so smart," she murmured. She kissed her again. "You can go to Stanford, Nat," she said.

She ruffled the toddler's hair, feeling lost, listening for the ring of a telephone – but then it struck her that she hadn't left her number, or her address, and maybe Gibbs had been too distracted, too angry, to get it out of Jasper – maybe Jasper refused it, washing his hands of it all, and Jenny rested her cheek on the top of Natalie's head.

"I'll make it up to you," she promised her daughter – but she wasn't sure what she was promising, where she was going, and what her intentions had been when she decided to run.

She had never thought this all the way through.

* * *

There was a park, near Melanie's condo – nothing particularly fancy, or state of the art, but there was a swing set, and a sandbox, and a little man-made pond, and it was a nice place with trees and some quiet, and occasionally some other people playing with pets.

Natalie liked it, and Jenny liked it – it cost nothing to take her, except the five bucks it had taken today because Jenny stopped to get a little ice cream for them both. It was very hot, after all.

"Mama," Natalie said, swinging her legs on the bench they were sitting on. "I wanna feed ducks."

Jenny squinted over at the pond, and shook her head.

"No, I don't think so," she said. There was no sign against it, but she thought it was best they didn't. "What if they started to depend on humans giving them food, and forgot how to do it themselves?"

Natalie scrunched up her nose and giggled. She put her cup of ice cream down and pointed.

"Touch ducks?"

"No, they're wild animals."

"But no teeth!"

Jenny nodded, playing with Natalie's hair.

"But they aren't used to being touched. Maybe they don't want to be."

Natalie considered that.

"I want pet," she decided.

Jenny laughed – well; maybe she should have expected that. Many people brought pets to this park to entertain them. A teenager walking her dog had let Natalie pet it a few days ago.

"Melly's place is too small for a pet," Jenny said gently.

Natalie swung her legs.

"Da Da's house big," she said.

Jenny sat back, and sighed under her breath. She ran her hand soothingly over Natalie's hair, smoothing down the knots, and chewed on the inside of her lip – every time she seemed to think Natalie was oblivious to what had happened, or that it was fading and she was adjusting, out of the blue she'd say something like that, and Jenny didn't know what to do.

Natalie tilted her head up, eyes wide.

"Grandpa dog," she reminded Jenny. "Chief dog!"

Jenny nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yes, Grandpa had dogs," she said. "Old, retired, mean police dogs," she teased, laughing. "Just as grumpy and growly as Grandpa."

Natalie giggled. She stood up on the bench, sticking her spoon in her mouth. Jenny slipped an arm loosely around the little girl's waist to balance her should she lose her footing.

"Hmmm," Jenny drawled, changing the topic. "Maybe Mommy will get a job at an ice cream shop," she mused, and tickled Natalie's ribs. "Then you can have all the ice cream you want."

Natalie giggled again and dropped into Jenny's lap, nearly spilling the melting contents of her cup all over the place. Jenny pushed her own empty cup over a little bit, and hugged Natalie closely, grinning.

It was a nice day, and Jenny always liked being out of the house – it was nice, refreshing, and she didn't feel so much like she was an animal waiting for slaughter. Though, that in itself was an absurd feeling; she was here of her own choice, it was just the ring of a phone and a reprimand that set her so on edge within those walls.

Jenny looked up and let the sun bathe her face, breathing out slowly.

"Or Mommy could work at a Vet clinic," she said. "Maybe as a tech? Or a receptionist? Then maybe sometimes you could come see a dog or a kitty," she went on.

Natalie nodded, listening to Jenny intently.

Jenny smiled at the two-year-old. She was still trying to figure out what she was going to do – there wasn't much pressure on her to get a job, because her mother was flippant about money; she bought things for Natalie, she gave Jenny money – and though Jenny had a certain sort of Jasper-instilled guilt that came with accepting the handouts, she didn't turn them down; this was her mother, that made it different than charity, in her eyes.

Still – she needed to start working, because she needed to get out on her own, and she needed to pay for school – and god help her, before she knew it, Natalie was going to be in school, and regardless of Melanie's generosity at the moment, Jenny inherently knew that she wouldn't wish to give up her lifestyle once Natalie was older and needed much more than she did now.

"But, I'll probably be a waitress," Jenny whispered softly – there had been nowhere for her to do such a thing in Stillwater, but that seemed to be what everyone did here.

Except most of them would tell you, _'I'm trying to be an actress!'_ , and Jenny would say _'I don't know what I'm doing, but my child is fed.'_

Natalie handed Jenny her ice cream, finished, and scrunched up her nose, as if she were trying to understand.

"Make clothes," she said, her pronunciation babyish. She tugged at the sash on her dress – a dress that Jenny had indeed made. "Make clooooothes," she trilled.

As usual, Jenny was taken aback but Natalie's astuteness, her unnatural intelligence – perhaps instinctive intuition. She smiled, and stroked her hair down, straightening the bow in her hair.

"I'll figure it out," she assured Natalie, comforting herself to hear the words out loud. "You won't have to worry at all," she added. "It's just all in a jumble right now. It would have been, no matter what."

Natalie nodded sagely, as if she understood.

"Ready to go home?" Jenny asked. She didn't mention naptime, but she was going to start that process by the time they got back to the condo – she didn't know if Melanie would be there or not.

Natalie nodded. Jenny stood, taking their trash and making sure to throw it away in the proper receptacle. Natalie held tightly to her hand, obediently, well aware that when they walked where lots of people were, she was never supposed to let go – even if she saw a dog or a squirrel she wanted to explore.

"It won't ever get very cold here," Jenny said conversationally. "You'll see, in winter. It won't be snowy and damp and terrible all the time," she explained. Natalie hopped along, eagerly keeping up. "We might even go to the beach on Christmas."

Jenny had gone to the beach at Christmas once. When her father had been at his last post, the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, they had gone to the beach on Christmas morning, after presents and before the big afternoon feast. It had been the last year her parents were married; when he'd retired from the Army and moved back to Stillwater with Jenny, Melanie had stayed in California.

Natalie scuffed her feet along and lost a shoe. Instead of scolding her or putting it back on, Jenny just picked her up, figuring it was easier, for the moment. Natalie gave her a smug look, as if she'd planned it, and started playing with Jenny's hair.

"Braid," she said. She still said her 'r' almost as if it were a 'w.'

Jenny nodded.

"Hm, good idea," she said lazily. "Cosmetology school."

The _other_ thing all the wannabe actresses did – nails, hair, aesthetics.

But Jenny didn't want to be an actress, and trade school seemed so limited; it seemed like a good way to get stuck. Every time she thought about getting stuck, she frustrated herself – what the hell did she want, anyway? Was there a way not to be stuck, when she had a child? She supposed Melanie wasn't stuck, Melanie had managed to have both – but then, Jenny didn't really think so; Jenny didn't want to live a life without Natalie.

There _had_ to be women who were doing it all somewhere, right?

It was a long but scenic back way to the condominiums, and because she'd been carrying Natalie, Jenny was exhausted when she got back and let herself in with the key.

Natalie scampered in.

"Melly!" she trilled, shrieking through the halls. "Mah-Mah-Mah-MELLY!" she cried.

"Hello, my little rascal," Jenny heard her mother exclaim. She slipped off her shoes and followed Natalie's path.

Natalie had climbed up on a chair to kiss Melanie's cheek, and Jenny folded her arms, leaning in the doorway.

"Good God, this child browns in the sun like no other," Melanie exclaimed enviously. "Not even a burn on her – is her father like this?"

Jenny thought of Gibbs in the summer, after he'd been working for ten hours on that old Crenshaw farm, dunking his head in a trough of ice water and rubbing it on his arms, skin tanned in that ridiculous pattern he always got from wearing a t-shirt in the heat.

She nodded, but said nothing.

Melanie laughed.

"On the other hand, you're sunburned, Jenny," she teased. She tossed her hair back. "I'm going out tonight, meeting up with some friends – someone who slept with Elton John is going to be there," she added, arching a brow. "Want to go?"

Jenny stared at her.

"Who would watch Natalie?" she asked.

"You can bring her. She's gorgeous, they'll love her."

"To a bar?"

Melanie laughed easily.

"I'm not telling you to order her a screwdriver!"

Jenny burst out laughing.

"Mom, no – come on, I'm not doing that."

"You have to get out, Jennifer."

"Yeah," Jenny agreed, laughing incredulously, "but I don't have to take Natalie to meet one of Elton John's groupies."

Melanie shrugged.

"Suit yourself – although, I can tell you – if you ever need a babysitter, there's someone two floors up – oh, what's her name – Shelley? Maybe it's Shelby. She's, I don't know, fifteen or something, she babysits all the time for cash. Trying to save for college in New York or something."

Jenny felt a flash of unruly bitterness, of disdain and dislike – as if she'd let some teenager watch Natalie so she could go off to a big school, make money off of Jenny's mistake –

Quick as a flash, that nasty feeling was gone, and Jenny swallowed hard; she couldn't even find it in her to say fifteen was too young to babysit a toddler, because Jenny'd been fifteen when she decided she was old enough to start having sex; Jenny had been sixteen when she was breastfeeding and baby proofing.

She smiled a little, and nodded.

"Well, maybe I'll see if she likes Natalie," she said vaguely. "You know, when I start working."

Melanie nodded blithely.

"And, you know, I can take Natalie to work with me more often than not," she offered. "It's very laid back – ah, California."

Jenny simply nodded a little silently. She wasn't sure she liked that idea much – it wasn't that she didn't trust her mother, it was just that … well, Melanie had just suggested it would be fine to take a two-year-old to a bar. The thing was, she didn't do it in an idiotic or malicious way, she genuinely thought it wouldn't harm Natalie, or bother anyone else.

It was nice, that Melanie was so unbothered by children, considering she'd chosen to live her life away from her child, and from the surface, someone might assume she disliked children and motherhood.

Melanie was odd; sometimes Jenny felt like she was the mother.

Jenny walked into the kitchen and reached for a sippy cup for Natalie, filling it with water. She still didn't mention the nap – Melanie had a tendency to occasionally side with Natalie on the anti-nap front.

"What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?" Jenny asked.

"Nothing, until this evening," Melanie said, sitting down and pulling Natalie to her lap. She began to play with her hair, stroking her fingers through it. "I had two issues to deal with this morning; went smoothly."

Jenny paused.

"Well, can you," she started, and then broke off. "She's – it's almost N-A-P time for her," Jenny spelled the word carefully, "and if you wouldn't mind watching her, I could take the time to go see about some jobs."

Melanie arched her eyebrows.

"I keep telling you to just relax, don't worry about that – "

"No, Mom, because at some point you're going to realize that Natalie and I are actually getting expensive, and when that time comes, I need to have money in the bank," she interrupted shortly. She licked her lips. "I have to do something. I didn't come out here to mooch for the rest of my life, you know."

"I understand that, but your father was working you to the bone, you never finished that GED, you've hardly had a moment to breathe since the baby was born," Melanie paused, looking at her incredulously. "Why don't you just focus on getting that equivalency for a while?"

Jenny looked at her, frustrated. She came around and sat down at the table, setting the sippy cup in front of Natalie. The toddler took it, and gave Jenny a gloomy look when she realized it was just water.

"Juice," she said.

"No, Natalie."

"Juice!" she insisted forcefully.

"No, Natalie," Jenny repeated calmly. She leaned towards her mother. "That GED is going to be a piece of cake," she said dryly. "That's what's so damn frustrating about this whole thing – I fail one science credit, and they act like four years of education meant nothing, but I could take this test with my eyes closed. Having a baby didn't make me stupid, it just made me busy."

Melanie tilted her head. She nodded.

"I make more money than you think I do," she said simply, her tone sage. "I also," she began hesitantly, "get fairly generous alimony from your father."

Jenny arched her brow.

"Really?"

Melanie nodded mildly. Jenny leaned back; she hadn't ever known that.

"I thought," Melanie went on, "that I might begin simply putting that alimony into a bank for you and Natalie."

Jenny stared at her. She shook her head.

"No, that's … that's absurd, Mom – "

"It's Jasper's money, to me, and you're my daughter. Why is that absurd?"

"Because it's a handout."

Melanie smacked her hand on the table lightly.

"He's warped you, you know," she said – and the strange thing was, she sounded half-frustrated, half fond, when she spoke of her ex-husband. "He – and I – are in a position to be able to help you and Natalie. There's a difference between instilling a good sense of responsibility and character in you and forcing you into the sort of abject situation girls without a support system have."

"Why didn't you ever throw all this in Dad's face for me?" Jenny asked tiredly.

"Do you know how long it takes water to erode mountains, Jennifer?" Melanie laughed brightly. She shook her head. "I don't doubt that you'll earn that GED easily. You still need the SAT."

Jenny groaned, slouching down in her chair – it was true; she did, if she wanted to get a chance at some scholarships, or get into some school other than a community college. She grit her teeth and watched Natalie – who was still gloomily eyeing her water – and then she pushed her hair back.

Melanie nodded, an eyebrow raised.

"You've been here long enough that your father won't let you go back," she said simply. "Even so, you haven't been here _that long_. I admire your drive, and your discipline, but I am not Jasper. Yes, I want you to get a job – but a job that isn't going to break your back for you to break even. I want you to go to school, I want you to get your own place, for Natalie's sake, but darling, it doesn't have to happen," Melanie snapped her fingers, "like _that_."

"I want it to," Jenny confessed impatiently.

Melanie leaned forward.

"That's because you're second guessing every single second of your life since you left Stillwater, and when that boy calls here looking for his daughter, you want to be able to tell him you have it all going for you, and you made the right decision."

Jenny shrank back from the words – they weren't harsh, they weren't accusatory or judgmental, they were just the truth.

Natalie threw her cup on the floor.

" _Juice_ ," she snapped viciously, her attitude alerting the world to her need for a nap.

Melanie handed Natalie over promptly, and stood up, giving Jenny a sharp look.

"You remember what I told you," she said obstinately, as Jenny took Natalie, and tried to muster a stern look for her.

"Act like you're confident you're in the right," Jenny murmured, pushing Natalie's hair back.

Natalie swiped at her hand and frowned at her, whining unhappily, and Jenny looked over the child's shoulder to the silent telephone.

* * *

Jenny was exhausted when she stumbled into the condo, trying to balance Natalie on her hip while she dragged a rather heavy cardboard box in behind her – it was a toddler bed for Natalie, she'd found it at a thrift shop and put the pieces into two separate boxes. Finally, there would be a place for Natalie to sleep all her own.

The phone was ringing off the hook, which meant Melanie wasn't home – Melanie answered her phone on the fourth ring if she was home, always the fourth. Natalie was yelling about something, chattering, happy or unhappy Jenny wasn't sure, because she'd been mercurial all day – even in the grocery store, to Jenny's embarrassment.

"Natalie, just be quiet," she snapped, kicking the door shut behind her – she'd go get the other box later and try to work out putting it together; her mother had let her use the car today, because Melanie was attending some awards dinner for one of her clients.

One of these days, Jenny needed to figure out exactly what her mother did for a living, since it put her so close to so many vaguely popular celebrities.

Natalie kicked at Jenny and squirmed to get down, and with a groan of annoyance, Jenny crouched, letting her go. Natalie let out a squeal and stomped her foot.

"Bee STING!" she shrieked insistently.

Jenny slapped her forehead – she'd completely forgotten; Natalie had been stung by a bee out in the convenience store parking lot, when Jenny was picking up birth control prescriptions, and since she'd calmed down in the car, Jenny had let it slip from her mind.

"Okay, okay, okay," she said quickly. She picked Natalie right back up. "Is it swollen?"

Natalie burst into tears and showed Jenny her wrist.

"So much hurt," she cried.

Jenny squinted at the slightly red area and tried not to roll her eyes – it had just been a sweat bee, but you'd think Natalie had been gouged by a full-grown mountain lion. Still, Jenny bit her tongue, and started for her mother's bathroom. The phone kept ringing – Jesus, didn't Melanie's answering machine pick up?

When she was searching for the first aid kit and the phone was still screaming, Jenny realized the problem was that someone kept calling, and it clicked that it might be an emergency – it might be Melanie herself.

She bit her lip, picked up Natalie again, and dashed to the sitting room, falling onto the couch heavily and picking up the cordless phone.

"Hello?" she said rapidly. Natalie grabbed the cord and yanked on it for attention.

"Mama, bee! Mama _beeeee_!"

"Hello?" Jenny said louder, hushing her. "Yes, this is Melanie Shepard's residence – this is her daughter," she said, still unable to hear. She took a deep breath. "Natalie Winter," she barked. " _Quiet_."

Natalie hushed quickly, and her eyes swelled with tears. They fell silently down her cheeks, and Jenny slumped back sourly, guilt coursing through her.

"This is her daughter, Jenny," she said again, her voice brittle.

There was silence on the end of the line.

Jenny's eyes stung angrily – she was so not in the mood for this childish shit right now; anger rose in her throat, and she was on the verge of slamming the phone down after a few choice swear words when she realized –

It was a very loud, very poignant silence – no heavy breathing, no muffled laughter as someone tried to get a straight face to finish the prank call.

It was silence, but it was louder than anything she'd ever heard in her young life.

The tears still stung her eyes. Natalie gripped her arm tightly, and Jenny swallowed hard. She waited a moment, and when nothing happened, she closed her eyes lightly.

"Jethro?"

Her voice was soft, cautious; as if she might spook him.

That silence still lingered, remained, and then he said –

"I want to talk to Natalie first."

She felt as if she'd been punched in the gut; all of her breath went out of her. She didn't know if she should start screaming in outrage, or crying with relief that he'd finally called. Natalie tugged on her, and she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to compose herself.

"Jethro, I don't know if that's – "

"Put her on, Jenny, or I will hang up and call back until I get your mother and she puts Natalie on."

Jenny swallowed hard. She took the phone away, and covered the mouthpiece.

Her eyes met Natalie's, the little girl's angry, teary blue eyes boring into hers, begging for attention.

"Bee," Natalie squealed, affronted and offended that her injury was still unattended.

"Natalie," Jenny said carefully, holding out the phone. "Natalie, it's Daddy."

She pushed the phone to the child's ear gently, stroking Natalie's hair back.

"Daddy," she said again, lowering her voice. "Say hello. Talk to him," she coaxed her.

Natalie shifted her head and took a deep breath, baffled, probably, but clearly pleased with the attention.

"Da Da?" she piped up curiously. "Da Da? Where?" she asked. She gave a dissatisfied squeal. "Bees sting!" she shrieked.

Jenny took her hand gently and let her hold the phone, showing her how to grip it – Natalie remembered quickly; she didn't talk on the phone that often, but she had spoken to Melanie via a phone before, and two weeks ago, Melanie had taught her to hold it while they called Jasper.

Jasper, like Gibbs seemed to be doing, had refused to speak with Jenny.

She put her arm around Natalie, watching her, unable to hear anything Gibbs was saying.

Natalie tilted her head back, tugging on the cord with fascination.

"Yes," she said blithely. She laughed. "Yes!" she squealed.

Jenny felt powerless; she just listened – he could be saying anything. She turned her head, looking away, and closed her eyes lightly, gritting her teeth.

"No," Natalie drawled. She sighed, and stood up, leaning back against the couch. She dropped the phone, and grabbed Jenny's shoulder, pointing at it. Jenny picked it up and held it back to her helpfully, brushing her hair back again. "Da Da?" she asked.

She bit her tongue gently.

"Da Da, kiss bee stings," she simpered. She pursed her lips. "Where you are?"

Jenny watched her, hearing only one side of the childish conversation, imagining the myriad of things Gibbs could be saying – was he just letting Natalie talk, was he laughing, joking, telling her a serious story, poisoning her against Jenny?

She felt like she was on trial, and yet she tried to act natural.

Natalie babbled something contently.

"Melly," she said, then babbled something else. "Mama, too. Teeny bed."

Jenny got up abruptly, and Natalie swayed a little, rolling onto her side in the couch. She snuggled in to the cushions, and Jenny leaned over the back of the couch, quietly making sure the phone cord didn't tangle up in a dangerous way. Natalie put her thumb in her mouth, listening.

She nodded.

"Pretty," she said. "Sun. I like sun."

It seemed like forever that Jenny stood there, hugging herself, watching – forever, until the door open and Melanie breezed into the apartment, shopping bags in hand, as Natalie rolled over and waved for Jenny.

"Mama, Daddy," she mumbled. She said into the phone: "See you. Love you."

Jenny reached for the phone, and for the toddler, and she turned towards her mother in a panic, her heart thumping in her throat.

"Jenny, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Take her," Jenny said, nudging Natalie. "Mom, please."

"Who's on the phone?"

Jenny gave her a look, and Melanie arched a brow. She stared a moment, and then seemed to understand. Jenny held the phone to hear ear tentatively.

"Jethro," she said nervously. "Don't – don't hang up."

She held the phone between her ear and shoulder, handing Natalie over. Melanie took her, smiling winningly.

"She needs an N-A-P," Jenny pleaded. "And – humor her, put a pink Band-Aid on the bee sting on her wrist. Just," she lowered her voice. "Can you – go in there? Mom, I can't move the phone," she said, anxious.

Melanie waved her hand as if it were nothing, swinging Natalie around with her.

"I _must_ show you all the goodies I bought, Natalia, my _love,"_ she drawled, dramatically and whimsically. "Perhaps I even have a gift for you in there, your Majesty."

Jenny waited until she had shut the bedroom door, and then she came around and sank down on the couch, making herself small, curling up in the corner. She held the phone to hear ear, listening to him breathe.

She swallowed hard.

"Jethro?"

"How did she get a bee sting?" he asked.

His voice was so cool, so unemotional. She was so caught off guard by the unassuming question, she almost didn't answer – and then she seized on it with a kind of ferocity, and she twisted her fingers in the phone cord.

"In the thrift store parking lot," she said quietly, trying to steady her voice. "It was after the – her hands were sticky, from a Popsicle. It was after the sugar."

"She's not allergic to bees?"

"No," Jenny said, smiling a little. "No, Jethro, she's okay."

"She didn't sound okay. Sounded like it hurt."

"Is this what you want to talk about?" she asked tensely.

For some reason, it sounded like he was criticizing her.

"No," he answered coldly – coldly, and automatically, as if it had been a set up.

He fell silent.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't bear the silence.

"It's been weeks, Jethro," she blurted. "What took you so long to call?"

There was a careful pause, before he spoke again.

"Is that what you want to say to me, Jen?"

The icy question pierced her to the core, and she bristled with some kind of weak anger.

"If you're not going to say anything, I have to say something!" she burst out. "You can't call to breathe at me in rage – "

"I called to talk to my daughter," he interrupted shortly.

"You could have done that a little sooner," she lashed out protectively.

She felt him glaring at her, felt the damning depth of those blue eyes she loved so much.

"Took me a minute," he said curtly.

" _Took you a minute?_ To do what – to decide if she _mattered_ – "

"Took me a minute to get it, Jen," he interrupted again. "To really _get_ that you ran out on me. That you took her, and you ran."

She gnashed her teeth together. She swallowed hard, and then she took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said, calming down.

This is what the conversation needed to be, after all; had to be. She couldn't expect him not to be angry, but she was just suddenly, acutely realizing that she was in no way, shape, or form prepared to speak to him – in fact, despite all her apprehension and steeling herself for him to call, maybe, deep down, she'd wanted him to just – let her go.

"What the hell got into you, Jen?" he asked.

She heard him shift, heard him move something around – it sounded like glass; she hoped he wasn't drinking – she'd never known Gibbs to drink, and she wondered with horror if she'd driven him to it.

"Jethro," she said, her voice soft, brittle – scared. "It's so complicated."

"Explain it."

"I, I, I," she stammered, breathless. "I can't, Jethro!" she cried softly, her voice almost breaking. "You won't understand. You didn't understand, at the funeral, a boot camp graduation – "

"What didn't I understand?" he barked, cutting her off. "I was doing what I could. I did what I was supposed to. I couldn't do a damn thing to make you understand that it wasn't going to work exactly like you wanted it to –"

"I know it wasn't!" she interrupted. "That's the _whole fucking point_ ," she gasped out. "It just all fell apart. You know – you – Ann was holding it together, giving us this charming, bubble world, making it all seem safe and like we'd be okay and just – the whole support system fell apart, and you know as well as I do that it just wasn't _working_ \- "

" _You_ don't get to blame my mother for this bullshit, Jen," he snarled. "You think she would have been proud of you for taking Natalie away? For – running off like a coward? She would have – she would have _hated_ you for this."

She sat forward like she'd been given an electric shock, almost choking on her anger.

"Don't you dare put that on her," she snapped. "That's _you_ talking, Jethro, that's _you_ – and you can hate me, I won't dispute your right to hate me, but Ann – but – your mother, she understood me, Jethro, she loved me," Jenny cried hoarsely, "and she never would have hated me. She wouldn't have liked this. I know that. But she understood me so much better than you think."

"She never would have done this!"

"Ann was a saint!" shouted Jenny. "She was a saint, and I'm not that strong! I wasn't cut out for it! You used to – you used to rage at how your father made her wilt, crushed her spirit, ignored her fantasies, reduced her to a mother and a wife and now you're – you almost sound like him!"

"I never tried to hold you back or pin you down," he barked at her, his voice hardening. "I – I didn't leave you, Jenny, I didn't quit – I went to do what I had to, to find a way _out –_ for us," he paused to take a breath, and she pushed her hand through her hair, listening. "You think Ma would _ever_ forgive you for taking my daughter from me?"

"Stop bringing your mother into this; stop using her against me – she's dead Jethro, she's gone, you'll never know what she thinks about me – just speak for yourself, tell me you hate me - -but stop, please stop," she held back a sob, "you hit the right button – you got it, sharp and hard, like you always do; you just know what to hurt people with. "

There was a heaviness, a hollowness, to the silence that followed her emotional outburst, and tears poured down her cheeks – even as she tried to wipe them away. She felt fifteen again, sobbing by the riverbank with a broken jewelry box, terrified of telling her father she was pregnant. She felt so young, so impossibly young and out of control. So stupid; so foolish.

He made a soft noise, like he was groaning, defeated.

"I don't hate you," he said finally.

His words were rough, grudging, but she sensed the truth in them.

"Why'd you do it, Jen?" he asked.

He sounded so tired, so lost.

She wiped at her face quickly, rubbing her cheeks. She dug her nails into her knees, hoping her mother wasn't listening; hoping Melanie could keep Natalie occupied.

"Didn't your father give you the letter?" she asked.

"I want to hear it from you."

"What else can I say, Jethro?" she murmured weakly.

She licked her lips, swallowing salty tears, sucking in her breath.

"I _couldn't_ get married – I thought about it, and I felt like I was suffocating, choking, like it was a trap I just – I just wouldn't get out of." She tried to steady her breathing, trying to find some way to make him understand. "We're just … we're just too _young,_ and the idea of – resenting you, or being miserable with you – it's such a repulsive idea to me, so contrary to the fantasies I had," she caught her breath. "The stupid, stupid fantasies. Before Natalie."

"You just had to make room for Natalie," he said coldly.

"I did, Jethro, I did," she insisted. "I _love_ that little girl more than anything in the world, and you know it. I didn't leave her. I didn't abandon her for you to take; I didn't run off never to be burdened with motherhood again. But think … think about … how we would have struggled – "

"We always struggled, Jenny," he interrupted frustrated. "That's nothin' new – it's never been easy, but you didn't give it a chance, you just – wrote me off, wrote the whole damn thing off – you're so sure you'd hate being married to me?"

"I'd hate being alone! I'd hate doing nothing while you made your way – "

"The Marines aren't a cakewalk, Jen, and you wouldn't have been alone, you'd be with me – "

"No," she said fiercely. "No – _let me tell you_ – you'd have been at work, all day; brutal training. The second you were done, you'd get deployed – no, Jethro," she said sharply, "you would. And traveling with you – then I'd have no support system, no friends, no family, no job, just the fear of losing you and the barely-there infantry pay you get – and if I'd stayed in Stillwater, I'd have gone mad," she caught her breath, pressing on forcefully. "And then, if you came back – if you didn't die out there, you'd be different, you'd be changed, just like my father was always different, after deployments, and we'd be too young to deal with it, we'd just be lost and confused, and we'd have Natalie and – it just would have all combusted, Jethro. It wasn't going to work – I told you I couldn't stand in the way of you joining the military – you were meant for it – but you can't expect me to – to –"

"Yes, I can, Jen," he said dully. His voice had lowered; he sounded threatening. "It would have been halfway decent if you'd given me a chance."

"You forgot to call me, Jethro," she whispered shakily. "Those final weeks, I needed to hear your voice – I kept trying to resist this urge, I kept – I needed you. I just wanted to hear you tell me it would be okay. And you – _you never called_."

She'd waited; after every letter – waited. She'd kept begging him to call her; the simple truth was she'd sworn she wouldn't do it if he just showed her that it really was all about her and Natalie, and not him fulfilling his hell-bent dream to get into the Marines and out of Stillwater – because if he was going to do that, she could, too.

He didn't say anything for a long time.

"You were just gone, Jen," he said finally. He sounded so hoarse. "You were just _gone_."

She closed her eyes tightly, tears pricking at her lids and lashes.

"That last letter you sent, with Natalie's drawings," he asked heavily. "Was it from California?"

She nodded, and then she realized he couldn't see her – she had no idea when he'd ever see her again.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I didn't deserve this," he told her huskily.

"It's not a punishment, Jethro. It's – this is very much not about you, or anything you did."

"It's all about you," he said – his voice was quiet, but aggressive; damning. She didn't correct him.

She wiped at her nose, held her cheek in her hand.

"She asked for you."

"Don't," he snapped, the anger flashing into his tone immediately. "Don't do that – why the hell would you do that to me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I want you to know she didn't – forget you."

"She'll think I never gave a damn about her."

Jenny leaned back into the couch, tilting her head back. She stared at the ceiling; tears balanced in her eyes, until they seemed to absorb back into her, drowning the synapses in her brain, running down her throat, making her sick.

Still, still; she didn't want to go back – it wasn't necessarily regret she felt, but a desperate need to assuage her guilt because she wanted to be here, in California, with her mother, and maybe she could finally embrace that desire once this was all hashed out, this inevitable confrontation.

"Where are you?" she asked.

She almost thought he wouldn't answer — and did she have a right to know?

"Lejeune," he grunted finally. "Military Police. North Carolina."

"How long are you at Lejeune?" she asked tentatively.

"Until they PCS me, Jen; who the hell knows," he snapped bitterly. She heard rustling again, clinking. "You think you'll have this figured out by then?"

"I don't understand you," she told him hoarsely.

"You gonna get your head on straight, find what you need? What am I doing here?" he asked.

It struck her that she'd never heard him be so straightforward, so practically emotional.

"Are we done?" he asked bluntly.

She felt like vomiting. She'd never envisioned a world where she wasn't with Gibbs; her small town, all-American world had always been him, before and after Natalie, and somehow, even when she'd run, she hadn't dreamed – of this.

But she knew – that with this much bad blood, telling him they'd make a long distance relationship work was – absurd, ridiculous; laughable.

"I don't think we're together anymore, Jethro," she confessed brokenly.

Before he could say anything, she started to talk – she felt so scared, so nervous, so alone, and she couldn't stand the silence.

"It's not your fault," she pleaded. "I don't – blame you, I don't think less of you, I love you, Jethro – you didn't run me off; it's so very much not your fault – I know you did everything for me – "

"It's _your_ fault," he agreed coldly. "You should have leaned to make sacrifices."

She dug her nails into her knees again.

"Why did I have to make the only sacrifices?" she cried softly. "You got the military. You got what you wanted – "

"At the expense of missing her all the time. Every _damn_ day. Missing her. You. Wondering what she was doing – you couldn't stick by me for that?" his voice was steady, hard, but it felt like he was shouting, felt like he was twisting a knife between her ribs. "You think it's going to be any better there?" he asked.

"I think it's going to be my life," Jenny said. " _Mine_. Figuring out who I am. Not just – just," she sighed anxiously. "We aren't even grown up yet," she said tiredly. "And I would rather have – the memories of Stillwater, the good ones, than let what we had become…tarnished, and … ruined."

She knew what he was going to say, and she braced herself – and he didn't disappoint.

"You ruined it, Jen."

She smiled to herself: it killed her.

"What about her life?" he asked. "Natalie?"

She couldn't speak.

"I get a say in that?" he provoked. "What if I sued for custody?"

That got her; that revitalized her instincts.

"You wouldn't get it – never," she snapped, vicious. "Your life belongs to the military. You let them own you. You – you're threatening to take her from me, Jethro?"

"You took her! You took her, Jenny, you took her!" It sounded like he was throwing a fit, and the irrational thing was, the crazy thing was, she loved it – she loved that he loved Natalie so much, she was relieved he was so angry, because when he hadn't called and hadn't called and hadn't called, she'd thought her worst fears had been right – that he'd be glad to wash his hands of them both and how they'd constricted his life.

"I'm her mother," Jenny asserted. "Her _mother_."

"Why does everyone think that's so much more important?" he seethed. "Isn't the whole point these days that _both_ parents should do the work?"

Her chest ached; every bone and muscle in her body ached.

"I can't do this anymore, Jethro," she said, exhausted. "Get it out of your system – give me the worst of it," she pleaded. "I'm … I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me," he said. "It's a sign of weakness."

She closed her eyes. She didn't give the apology again; if that's how he felt, then she'd embrace it; she wasn't sorry that she'd left, it was true: but she was infinitely sorry that she'd hurt him so badly, and she was – she was startled at how much this hurt, despite the fact that she'd chosen it.

"You can call me if you have leave," Jenny told him quietly.

"You know how unlikely that is for the first few years, Jen – if I get it, I can't afford it," he said darkly.

"Let me know when you want to see her," she continued in the same level voice, ignoring him. "I won't prevent it."

He seemed lost, stunned. He cleared his throat.

"You gonna tell me where you live, Jen?" he asked. "Where I can send this child support?" the request was sarcastic, bitter; unforgiving – ah, so her father hadn't given the address.

"I don't want the money, Gibbs," she told him.

He didn't say anything, but she meant it when she denied it; she had decided to go off on her own – she wasn't going to ask him to support that.

"You can call her," Jenny said huskily. "You can talk to her – any time you want."

She felt his uncertainty, his skepticism, and she felt a certain dread in herself, as if she knew that it would never work that way, either – she felt an inkling of why her father had gotten the courts involved in the first place, way back when.

The custody agreement that had ensured she had the right to do this, and he had no rights to Natalie at all.

She thought he was going to hang up, but after a long time, he said:

"You know how much that kills me?" he asked heavily, his voice cracking. "Hearing her?"

She covered her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut – no, she didn't know; but she tried to imagine what she'd feel if she woke up one morning and Natalie had disappeared.

"Jethro," she began, a sob.

He hung up.

The line hummed at her, crucified her, and thrummed in her ears until she slammed it down, about to go crazy with the sound. She put her hands over her face, trembling, and then she got up, pushing her hair back, and ran for her mother's room.

She fumbled with the door and flung it open; for a split second she looked at Natalie and tried to be strong, but Natalie had her father's eyes, and her father's nose, and a certain saint-like, soft Ann Gibbs prettiness to her, and Jenny leaned against the door, bursting into tears.

Melanie got up quickly, leaving Natalie on the bed – the two-year-old looked startled, but curious, sitting there with a new sparkly pair of Mary Janes on, and she fixated on the older women as Melanie reached for Jenny.

"We broke up," Jenny sobbed, and even to her, the words sounded ludicrous – obvious; what else had she expected? "Mom," she gasped.

Melanie put her arms around her, and Jenny buried her face in her mother's shoulder, crying for what she'd lost – because no matter what her choices, and no matter how glad she was to be out of Stillwater, and how much more freedom she had here, she wasn't proud of herself for hurting him so badly – and no matter _what_ , that boy had been her first everything, and really, bluntly, honestly losing him felt like dying.

* * *

Natalie held Jenny's hand tightly as she pointed longingly at the ocean, her little blue eyes fixed on the lazily crashing waves. She wriggled her toes in the sand and hopped up and down.

"I promise you," Jenny said, "it's very, very cold," she warned, for what had to be the tenth time.

She didn't blame Natalie, though – it was November, and they were on the beach; Natalie didn't necessarily understand that just because the colder months were milder here didn't mean the Pacific Ocean felt nice and cozy, too.

"O-shee," Natalie said smugly.

She loved the Ocean more than anything; that seemed to be her pet name for it. Jenny knew her daughter was perfectly capable of saying 'Ocean' – in fact, every day it became more apparent that Natalie was impressively precocious.

Melanie said every mother thought that about her child, and Jenny acknowledged that was true – but Natalie was smarter. The Pediatricians in Pennsylvania had said so – mostly noting her vocabulary.

Maybe it was because sometimes, in those first few years, she'd been her parents' only friend, and they'd talked to her and treated to her as such, even when they were taking care of her.

"And that's why teenagers shouldn't have babies," Jenny murmured to herself, smiling down at Natalie.

Natalie hopped up and down, alternately skipping and walking patiently. She was delighted for her birthday walk on the beach; Jenny had promised it – later, after Melanie's unnecessary little shindig, Jenny would take her down for just some Mommy-Daughter time – when it was dusk, and the beach wasn't crowded.

Natalie still had a little tiara on, something Melanie had bought for her. She loved it, and she wouldn't take it off, so Jenny didn't make her. Melanie had thrown a party for her – a quaint little thing, with champagne and too many adults – no other children, because Melanie didn't hang out with people with children.

They had been a nice crowd, and every one of them nice to Natalie – and the absurd thing was, they'd all bought gifts, and seemed to think it was just so amusing that Melanie Shepard had a granddaughter – what a _droll_ puppet show!

Natalie was wearing a tiny little pea coat someone had brought her – it wasn't cold enough for it, but she was in love with it so she refused to take it off, and while she put it on and modeled it, giggling madly, Jenny stared with disbelief at the name on the tag –

Ralph Lauren. Who bought a small child Ralph Lauren – designer anything? Who had the money to waste such luxury on a little girl who still thought dirt was a lovely accessory?

But it wasn't Jenny's money, or Jenny's friend, so she'd warmly thanked the woman – some director or other – and coaxed Natalie to do the same. Then, to her relief, she'd been able to share a slightly baffled look with girl from upstairs.

The girl from upstairs, the one Melanie had mentioned as a possible babysitter – it turned out her name wasn't Shelby _or_ Shelley, it was Samantha, and she was a very sweet, nice girl. She was fifteen, and Jenny occasionally did let her watch Natalie – the girl had a babysitting class under her belt, and she knew CPR and the Heimlich, which ironically was more than Jenny had known in all the years she'd had the baby.

She discovered quickly that what Melanie had said – about Samantha saving money for college in New York – wasn't anything to be jealous of; Samantha was trustworthy and honest, but she was naïve – she told her mother she was saving for Cornell, but she told Jenny she wanted to run away to work on Broadway. She was an average singer with a lot of heart, and when Jenny realized she needn't feel threatened by this younger girl's future and ambition, or feel bitter about what Samantha could have that she couldn't, she relaxed, and enjoyed spending time with her occasionally.

Jenny tried not to think how petty her reluctance to contact Samantha was, and how nasty it was for her to only want to associate with her when she was sure she'd never be jealous, but she couldn't help it; she tried to ignore that part of herself – and it was easy to put aside, because though Samantha was younger, and had all of the benefits of being a teenager with none of the unexpected and daunting things Jenny had experienced, it was still nice to hang out with someone closer to her age.

"Mama," Natalie said, crouching down and stopping. "Look, Mama, little crab."

Jenny veered away, letting go of Natalie's hand and stepping back.

"Bug," Natalie giggled, reaching down and snatching up the pale white sand crab. She held it in her hand, and Jenny tried not to be horrified. "Bug like me."

"No," Jenny said, with a pained smile. "No, Nat, you're a _cute_ bug. That's a - it's a sand … spider."

"No crab!"

"Yes, but basically a sand spider," Jenny corrected dryly. "Please put it down. Mommy doesn't like it."

Natalie stood up and thrust the crab into the air. It landed on Jenny's shoulder. She let out a ridiculous squeal and swatted it off madly, stumbling back and falling down into the slightly damp sand. Natalie let out a cackle and followed the trajectory of the sand crab.

"Fairy crab!" she trilled. She followed it as it scuttled away. "Bye-bye, Bug," she crooned, turning and hopping back to Jenny, her new little pea coat dancing behind her.

Jenny gave her a mild glare, dusting sand off of her, reaching for her bag – she always carried a bag, with things in it for Natalie just in case of an emergency.

"Why do you like bugs so much?"

It wasn't the first time Natalie had picked up something crawly and creepy. She'd grabbed a grand-daddy long leg once and Jenny still hadn't recovered from the trauma of her holding it up and saying _'Look, Mama, eight legs!'_

"I'm a bug!"

"You're a Natalie," she said. "That's just a nickname."

Natalie crawled into her lap and sprawled over it, dragging the purse towards her. She rummaged through it until she had her hands on a brown package, drawing it out sneakily.

"Present," she said.

"Hmm," Jenny sighed. "Did you throw the crab on purpose? Huh? Were you trying to get ahold of Mommy's things?"

Natalie knew there was a final gift in the bag; she'd seen Jenny slip it from the pile into her purse before they left for the beach.

"Don't you think you've had enough presents?" Jenny asked dryly.

And hadn't she? Melanie had gotten out of control with her gifts alone, and then the fact that she'd had all those people bring gifts as well – clothes, mostly, which were useful, except for how expensive and ludicrous they seemed to be – Jenny felt guilty for letting Natalie play in something made by Ralph Lauren, but – how did you keep a three-year-old from happily playing, even if it meant getting dirty?

"I like them," Natalie said.

Jenny caught her around the waist and sat her up, pushing her hair back gently and meeting her eyes.

"Natalie," she said quietly. "You have to be thankful for everything you got today," she said softly. "Mommy," she paused, trailing off a moment. "Mommy never could have afforded all that."

She was sure Natalie didn't really understand; she wasn't even sure Natalie understood that Jenny hadn't arranged all those gifts for her. Jenny herself had only planned on giving Natalie a small couple of gifts – she and Jethro had never spoiled her on Christmas or her birthday before, particularly since they were only a month apart.

Natalie nodded.

"Pretty dresses, Mama," she agreed.

"Pretty dresses," Jenny repeated quietly.

Natalie held up the package.

"Open this please," she requested. She gnashed her teeth. "Or I do it," she threatened menacingly.

Jenny laughed. She took the package, and turned it over in her hands – it wasn't very big, but it was slightly heavy and bulky in places, not a box, but one of those padded envelopes that maybe had too much shoved into it.

She'd brought it with her, because she didn't want to open it in front of anyone; because she had no clue what could be in it, and she was afraid of what her reaction might be – she didn't even want Melanie to know what was in it yet, though Melanie had placed it in the pile of gifts.

She was wary of it, nervous about it, hurting over it, because it was from him.

The return address wasn't a personal one; it was Marine Corps Post office, North Carolina – Camp Lejeune – and even if that hadn't been on there, she recognized the handwriting.

Gibbs was the only person who had ever sketched a little butterfly over the 'I' in Natalie's name. His father had ragged him for it once; his mother had thought it was cute – Jenny asked him why he did it, because she'd only known girls to do things like that, and he just shrugged.

"Mama," Natalie whispered, tugging on her arm. " _Open_ ," she whined.

Jenny glanced at her, and arched an eyebrow.

"What do you say?"

"I say," Natalie blustered. "I RUN into OSHEE."

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"Don't be such a drama queen. You will not run into the ocean," she said. "Threatening to drown yourself over a gift – tsk, tsk," Jenny admonished. "I know your name is Natalie, but your last name isn't _Wood_."

Jenny dug her nail under the seal of the package.

"It's Gibbs," she mumbled to herself, wincing a little as her nail caught on a difficult part to open.

Melanie had asked if she was going to keep Natalie's last name, or change it to Shepard – most single mothers in California, it seemed, gave their babies their own last names. Jenny had just shaken her head.

 _I ripped his heart out_ , she thought dully, watching Natalie sleep; _I won't pour salt in the gaping hole._

Jenny opened the package slowly, ignoring Natalie's impatience; this was her first real contact with Gibbs in months – months; it had been months since that brutal phone call, since the moment that irrevocably changed everything.

She'd just been trying to move on. The thing was – and she didn't know if it was a horrible thing, or a blessing in disguise – he had made it easy on her; he rarely called, and if he did, it was like he knew when he could call so that he'd get Melanie, who would give him straight to Natalie.

Since November, Jenny had spoken to him once, and it had been cool, awkward, and painful.

"You know who this is from, Natalie?" Jenny asked, sliding a card out of the envelope.

It was sealed shut, and addressed to Natalie in the same handwriting. Jenny started to open it, and then she paused.

Maybe he didn't want her to read it. Maybe – it was like the phone calls; maybe he only wanted to talk to Natalie. Jenny asked her daughter what Gibbs said to her, but Natalie was so young it all went in one ear and out the other. The only inkling Jenny had of what their conversations – their few conversations – consisted of was that occasionally, Natalie said: 'Daddy love me.'

And Jenny, of course, would agree without arguement: _Yes, Daddy loves you_.

She wondered what she'd do when Natalie was old enough to ask what had happened, and then she refused to think about it. She fooled herself into thinking that if she were a good enough mother; Natalie would never need to care.

Natalie took the card.

Jenny took it back gently.

"Hey, honey?" she began. "I'm going to put this in a box for you. When you learn to read, you can read it, okay?" she asked. "Hmm?" Natalie blinked at her, and smiled, nodding. "I don't know if Daddy wants me to read it. It might be private, just for you."

"Okay," Natalie said smoothly. She held out her hand. "What else?"

Jenny laughed.

"Maybe he only sent you his nice words, you greedy little munchkin," she drawled.

She pulled Natalie close, and wrapped her arms around her, gently extricating the lumpy thing from the package. Tissue tumbled out with it – and Jenny found herself, at least momentarily, holding one of those chubby, eerie looking dolls.

Momentarily, because Natalie took it with a shriek of pleasure.

"Veggie doll!" she squealed, leaping up and hugging it.

Jenny gathered up the tissue and stuffed it back into the package, smiling softly.

"Cabbage Patch," she corrected, amused. "It's a Cabbage Patch kid, Natalie," she explained, beckoning her.

The three-year-old was too busy dancing around in circles, holding the plush little doll by its hands as if she were twirling it like a new bride. She hummed nonsense to herself, beaming, until she got dizzy and fell into the sand, laughing.

Jenny drew her knees up, and giggled – it was a heartwarming sight to see.

"That was nice of Daddy," she said.

She felt a little sheepish – when shopping, she hadn't really known what to get Natalie; she was conditioned to think like her father: what's necessary, what's a silly luxury, etc. etc. She had gotten her daughter a plastic little beauty salon set, a pair of sparkly Wizard of Oz shoes, and three new hair bows.

It wasn't much, but it was the kind of frugal treat she and Gibbs had always done for her back home. A doll wouldn't have been ridiculous or out of the question – Jenny just wasn't used to thinking of that.

Ann had given Jenny so many old family hand-me-down dolls, they'd never bought her a new one – but, these were all the rage, and somehow, of course, Gibbs would know that.

"Mama," Natalie crooned, scrambling up and darting over. "Look, brown hair," she said, pointing to the doll. She scrunched her nose. "Hair like me."

"A little bit," Jenny agreed. "Yours is a little reddish," she tried, stroking Natalie's long hair – she never cut it, and she always wished it had a little more of her in it, because right now it was a very Gibbs-ish brown.

"You'll have to send Daddy a thank-you," Jenny said, kissing Natalie's temple.

"Go see?" she asked.

Jenny shook her head, resting her cheek against Natalie's.

"No, he lives too far away," she placated.

"Go see tomorrow?"

Jenny laughed hoarsely.

" _No_ see, Natalie," she said carefully.

"Why?"

Jenny took a deep breath, and steeled her eyes.

"Because it didn't work out," she said simply.

She was thinking of what her mother had said, of what she kept reminding herself – _fake the confidence until you have it; tell yourself you did the right thing until you both believe it_.

Natalie shrugged, easily appeased. She held up her doll and squeezed it.

"Veggie baby," she said smugly.

Jenny smiled at her warmly.

She clutched at the package, and felt something else in it – something hard and inflexible, at the bottom.

"Oh, Bug," she murmured. "I think we missed something. What else … " she trailed off, rummaging in the package.

Her fingers tangled in a string, and she pulled the last part out.

The thin sheets of metal clinked together, and she rolled them over, narrowing her eyes to read.

 _Gibbs, L. J. O NEG  
000-76-9841  
_ _USMC L  
_ _NO PREF_

Each tag said the same thing – name, blood type, social security number, branch, gas mask size, and religious preference. She remembered the format from her father's; she'd always worn a pair of his when she was younger, her parents were still married, and he was deployed.

Her father had to commission new ones each time he gave some to her; Gibbs would have to do the same, and it would be a hassle. Yet he'd still sent them to Natalie.

"Necklace," Natalie said, eyes wide.

Jenny swallowed hard, reaching out. She placed the chain over Natalie's head gently, adjusting it and letting it hang. It was large on her, and it was cold against her neck; Natalie gave a little shiver and brought the tags up to stare at them.

"It's a special necklace, Bug," Jenny murmured, putting her lips close to Natalie's ear. "If you keep it close to your heart, it helps keep your soldier – Marine – safe," she said, repeating what her father had said to her – remembering to replace soldier with Gibbs' branch.

Natalie admired the shiny silver, and Jenny turned her head, taking a deep breath.

She closed her eyes tightly.

She had been trying so hard to move on, these past few months – since the end of July, when she and Gibbs had – broken up, and Natalie had seen her mother cry until she was sick, and for once in her life since the baby was born she'd put herself first and given Natalie over to Melanie for the next day.

She had been trying to stay strong – moving forward, feeling out ideas for jobs, making plans for the future – she was going to have to work a while, before she started college; she had taken the GED, passed it – and what a relief; but now the SAT loomed, and she needed desperately to do well on.

She had studied, decorated her room, made a space for Natalie, tried to make this home for Natalie – and she was well on her way.

She was doing her best; she was trying, and she was recovering, she was moving forward.

Natalie seemed happy here – ultimately, Jenny herself was happier here.

That didn't mean, however, that it still didn't hurt to think of Gibbs; it didn't mean she still didn't lay awake at night with her doubts and her guilt, or her fear.

She swallowed hard, and reached down to take Natalie's hand, holding the dog tags in her hands.

She opened her eyes and selfishly used her daughter's hair to wipe her tears, but she couldn't really hold them back.

"I really miss him, Nat," she said weakly, giving in just a little –birthdays were hard; even that day in September was hard, when she knew Gibbs was turning twenty somewhere on the east coast, and she'd taken Natalie roller blading on the pier.

Natalie turned her head; she blinked, and listened.

"I love him more than anything," she whispered. "I just … I don't think we're mature enough, yet. Or maybe he's more mature than me. I was just scared. I hope you never hate me for this."

"Mama okay?" Natalie piped up, twisting.

Jenny lifted her head, and saw the wide-eyed, innocent concern in Natalie's sweet, familiar blue eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt in her heart, a hollow shame in her gut – this was her child, not her confident – her daughter, not her friend.

She couldn't keep doing this; she couldn't keep murmuring to Natalie like she was a peer – she couldn't keep letting this child see her cry like this.

"This is the last time, Natalie Winter," Jenny whispered, kissing the little girl's forehead.

Her lips lingered affectionately, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking. Natalie rattled the dog tags, and on a balm November day on the beach in California, she promised herself she'd never let Natalie see her doubt herself again – she'd never let Natalie see her cry, and she'd stop musing on about Gibbs at all, because it was only going to hurt them both, and anything she said might give Natalie a false impression of who Gibbs was or what part he'd had in this – in this grand vanishing act.

* * *

"All of our plans have fallen through;  
Sometimes a dream, it don't come true."  
-The Killers; The Way It Was

* * *

 _y'all - feedback really appreciated!  
prepare for a time jump next chapter (not super huge)_

 _-alexandra_

 _story #265_


	2. For Reasons Unknown

_a/n: time jump to [pretty obviously] - Kindergarten ! writing in the 90s is so fun, i love it._

* * *

Los Angeles, California: 1990 - 1991

For Reasons Unknown

* * *

She was by no means the only mother milling around on the sidewalk outside of the elementary school, but she was – unsurprisingly and as usual – the youngest. She could always tell, because often, people did double takes when they saw her – and last week, she'd had a laugh when the superintendent of the county schools had asked if Natalie's mother would be signing the final papers.

Jenny had to politely inform him she was Natalie's mother, not her sister.

In the sun and the slight breeze, Jenny waited for the final bell to ring. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her slouchy jeans, her trusty bag slung over her shoulder – her hair looked a little windswept, because she'd taken Melanie's convertible, and forgotten, again, how to put the ragtop up. Melanie had only had the car for three weeks, a recent gift to herself.

She'd already caught a raised eyebrow look from one of the more prudish looking mothers, because Jenny's blouse bared her shoulders and her midriff – but these were the kind of clothes women her age were wearing, and Jenny refused to miss out on that; she chalked up the judgment to jealousy – her stomach, young and springy at fifteen, had snapped right back to flat after Natalie's birth, and she could still flaunt it.

Jenny pushed her sunglasses up on her head, her mouth dry with nerves. She'd been shaking when she left Natalie this morning – walking the six blocks to the bus stop, and then taking the bus back to Melanie's condo, because Melanie had needed the car this morning – so worried that the little girl would be scared, or lonely, or – all kinds of things.

She'd even taken off the ankh necklace she always wore and given it to Natalie, just to make sure she had a token of familiarity with her. The Kindergarten teacher hadn't allowed Natalie to bring her Cabbage Patch doll, affectionately called _Squash_.

Jenny had Squash tucked into her bag, so Natalie could have her right away, if she still wanted her. She knew Natalie would be extremely thrilled to get a ride in the convertible – she hated the city buses; she thought they made scary noises.

Natalie had seemed okay when Jenny left. Still, Jenny had stopped to turn and look back at the school so many times – too many times to count. She had trudged to the bus stop, felt lost on her way home – she couldn't believe she was putting her daughter in school, couldn't believe that so much time had passed.

In more than one way, their lives were changing this year, becoming something totally different – Natalie was starting school, and in the next few weeks, Jenny was as well.

Four years after she'd walked at her high school graduation, three after she'd gotten her GED and aced the SAT, she was finally starting her undergraduate career – the same year that her old best friend from high school graduated with a bachelor's.

Little things like that … didn't bother her so much, these days.

"Your first?"

Jenny turned, startled – she hadn't expected someone to speak to her. There was a woman standing next to her, jingling some keys. She smiled wryly at Jenny.

"Pardon?" Jenny asked.

"Kid," the woman said, nodding her head. "Your first to go off to Kindergarten?"

"Oh," Jenny breathed, looking back at the school. "Yes – first," she agreed. "Last," she added, with a wistful laugh.

The woman laughed.

"Ah, knock on wood," she warned. "I said that two kids ago. This is definitely my last, though," she sighed. "The first is always hardest."

Jenny nodded.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Jenny answered guardedly. "Her name is Natalie."

"Mine's Farrah," the woman said. "Husband picked it. Only girl."

Jenny smiled, and turned towards her a little more.

"Jenny Shepard," she said, holding out her hand.

The woman shook it.

"Marlene Cortland," she introduced. She looked at Jenny with interest for a moment. "You'll learn to _really_ enjoy the hours they're in school. Those moments to yourself," she encouraged.

"Well," Jenny said, shrugging. "I'll be in school, too, for the most part."

Marlene beamed.

"I admire that," she said. "I had my first baby when I was an undergrad at Wellesley. Husband joined the Army, and now we're here, four kids later, and I never finished."

She said it all so blithely, and on the inside, Jenny cringed – four kids, after one that was probably too early? She wanted to shiver, and step away, but she didn't; Marlene said it with no malice and no regret.

"Where are you going?"

"California State, at Long Beach," Jenny answered.

"And your field of study?"

Jenny felt like she was talking to her father, suddenly, but she smiled all the same – she liked talking about it; she liked that she could finally answer these questions with certainty and direction.

"Information technology, actually."

"You look nothing like a robot geek."

Jenny laughed – her mother had thought the choice a very boring, un-sexy degree as well.

"Well, I'm not," she conceded. "But computers are going to be very big."

It was why she'd gone for it – she really had no personal interested in technology, but the shrewdness in her understood that she'd be marketable with this kind of degree, and she knew she wasn't in a position to go for something frivolous and nebulous, like History or Political Science. Those were degrees where you needed connections and an unwavering ability to work to the bone, night until dawn, and Jenny just couldn't swing that with Natalie.

She did give herself a small treat – she chose to minor in political science, and she was taking some Russian languages classes, as well – Russian was always helpful in the Cold War!

The bell rang, and Jenny turned to the school, craning her neck.

"Will they all run out, or can I go get her?" she asked aloud.

"There will be a tidal wave," Marlene said, right as kids came dashing out the front door.

Everyone who had parents waiting for them came out the front; those headed for the school buses swarmed out the back.

Jenny stepped forward and looked eagerly, searching for a mass of silky, uncut auburn hair in the crowd of screaming and chattering little kids. She spotted Natalie as she broke the crowd and came scampering over, and she couldn't help but jump in her spot a little, like an excited kid herself.

"Natalie!" she cried.

Natalie zoomed up to the sidewalk and crashed into her legs.

Jenny crouched down and wrapped her arms around her, smiling in relief.

"Where's your headband?" she gasped, leaning back and ruffling Natalie's hair.

Natalie pulled it out of her pocket.

"A boy pulled it off my head," she said simply. "I pushed him right in the dirt, and made him wear it, but now it has cooties."

Jenny laughed, and nodded her head.

"Good girl," she praised, taking the headband and putting it in her bag. "I brought you a surprise," she said, pulling the doll out.

"Squash!" cried Natalie, taking her. She gave the doll a kiss.

"I hope you didn't miss her too much," Jenny said earnestly, searching Natalie's face – had she enjoyed Kindergarten, had she made any friends?

Natalie hugged Squash tight, but grinned, her eyes crinkling.

"She would be bored," she said earnestly. "We had a reading circle – Mommy, did you know other kids can't read?"

Natalie said it with such bemused innocence that Jenny didn't have the heart to shush her – in fact, she secretly hoped some of the other parents had over heard, especially the one with the outfit–judging eyes. _Yes, that's right,_ Jenny thought – _the mother whose stomach is showing has a five-year-old who can read_.

Jenny stood, and Natalie looked up at the woman beside her.

"Hello," she greeted.

"Natalie, this is Ms. Cortland – she's Farrah's Mommy, did you meet a Farrah?"

Natalie blinked blankly, and Marlene laughed.

"Farrah is probably off chasing butterflies – it was nice to meet you, Jenny," she said, waving. "You as well, Natalie."

Natalie waved at her, and then turned back to Jenny.

"Can we walk down to the beach?" she asked.

"I have a better idea," Jenny said, holding up the keys and making them jingle. "We're going to take Melly's sunny car, and go get ice cream!"

Natalie's eyes lit up, and she snuggled up to Jenny's side, hugging her. The dog tags around her neck pressed coolly into Jenny's thigh, and she reached down to move them aside, tucking them back into the front of Natalie's denim romper.

"I love the sunny car," Natalie said smugly – it's what she called the convertible, despite knowing the real world for it. Jenny liked it – it sounded fun and cute, and Natalie looked like a little Hollywood queen in the back in her car seat with little red cat's eye sunglasses on.

"C'mon," Jenny said, laughing. "Ice cream waits for no woman."

"But it waits for little girls!" Natalie piped up, taking Jenny's hand and allowing herself to be led to the car.

Jenny helped her in, buckling her seatbelt and double-checking its security before slipping into the driver's seat and maneuvering out of the school parking lot. She waited until they were somewhat away from the crowds and the traffic, speeding along the way to their favorite little hide-away ice cream parlor, to catch her daughter's eye in the rearview mirror.

She cleared her throat nervously.

"Natalie?" she asked. "Well, how was it?"

Natalie looked up, her long hair blowing – Jenny rarely ever got Natalie a hair cut, and only ever to trim the edges to keep them healthy. It hung wild all over the place – Natalie had fairy princess hair, and sometimes Jenny was wistfully jealous.

"How was what, Mommy?" Natalie feigned cluelessness.

"How was your first day?" Jenny asked anxiously.

For some reason, she felt like if Natalie hated it – it would be all her fault; it would be because she failed as a mother, she'd gone horribly wrong. How could she keep sending her baby to school if Natalie said she hated it, or was miserable, or –

Her daughter shrugged, and then sat Squash in her lap primly.

"I like my teacher," she said eagerly. Her voice was soft – Natalie's voice was almost always soft, even when she was yelling or angry or scared – if that made sense at all. She frowned. "A mean boy made fun of my name."

"You have a perfectly normal name," Jenny said, frowning.

Natalie? How could anyone make fun of Natalie? She had done such a good job picking out a nice, normal average name, with a cute nickname, and a couple of famous people to be proud of.

"My _middle_ name," the little girl grumbled.

"Ah," Jenny smiled at her in the rearview mirror. "He was probably just jealous. Maybe he has a boring middle name, like _Bob_. Or a silly one, like _Josephus_."

Natalie smirked, and then gave Jenny a serious, lofty look.

" _My_ middle name is a _silly_ middle name."

"It's unique," Jenny soothed gently. Without thinking, almost, she said: "Your father picked it out."

Little blue eyes looked at her with interest, and then her daughter looked away, the brief flicker of curiosity gone, erased with ease.

"I don't like it," she mumbled forlornly. "I don't remember Daddy."

Jenny looked away, her eyes on the crowded Los Angeles streets. The sight of so many people made her feel claustrophobic for a moment; she bit down hard on the inside of her lip – why had she said anything? Why had she mentioned Gibbs at all?

Because – she answered herself as reflex – because she still struggled sometimes, between keeping mum on the subject of him at all, and maybe subtly letting Natalie know that he wasn't a bad man, he was just … a mysterious man, at least to the little girl.

It hadn't taken long for Natalie to forget; Jenny wondered how long it would take her to be bitter.

She wondered when she'd ask questions – she never did, now, and for that Jenny was grateful; she'd never decided what she was going to say. She didn't blame Natalie for not remembering, for currently having no interest – though she knew, as Natalie went through school, she'd start to wonder; she'd start to have more complex interests and thoughts on where she'd come from, and who her mother was.

But for now—it made sense that she didn't worry about it, and it was a relief for Jenny – it had made it so much easier to move on, and Natalie was so young, things just didn't stick with her yet; when she thought of Stillwater, she thought of Grandpa Jasper, and sometimes mentioned Grandpa Jack – she didn't remember Ann, and that broke Jenny's heart – and she didn't seem to remember Gibbs too clearly, even from the days when he'd been a constant fixture.

The last time Gibbs had seen Natalie had been … God, a year ago – he'd been at Pendleton, he said, for sniper training school, and they'd had a tense meeting – it had been agony for her and, inevitably, they'd had a fight, and tried to keep it from Natalie that they were fighting.

On that day though – she, Natalie, had smiled; she'd seemed to have fun … the memory just didn't poignantly stick with her.

She tried not to think about that day very much. She wondered what he'd done after Sniper School; she wondered if he was still stationed here in California. He only called Natalie on holidays now – she didn't know why, but she guessed because it just hurt him too much, or maybe because he sensed that Jenny didn't like it – it wasn't that she didn't want Natalie to know Jethro, but deep down, she was afraid that one day Natalie would hate her, and she didn't want to have to face and explain the choices she'd made.

Maybe she was a little bitter, a little petty – she had the eerie feeling that Gibbs had found someone else, and that did something to her, damaged her deeply, so she tried to ignore the voices in her head. She didn't know why she felt he'd started up with another girl, except that he'd had a pink and red bracelet made of yarn on his wrist the last time she'd seen him, and it just didn't seem like something he'd make for himself on a whim.

But she didn't know a thing about his life, and that was her fault, and she always pushed these brief thoughts away.

"Mommy?" Natalie asked.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Did you have fun at your school?"

Jenny grinned at her.

"You are so nice to ask – so smart to remember," she complimented.

She made a sharp turn – in her reverie, she'd almost missed the ice cream parlor – and then swiftly parked the convertible close to the cute, dainty little area. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and turned around.

"It was fun," she allowed. "I picked all my classes, and got them in order, and they start in ten days." She held up her fingers happily. "But one of my classes is at night, so that night you'll stay with Samantha upstairs."

Natalie nodded. She unbuckled her seatbelt a little clumsily, and leaned forward.

"Can I come with you? I think I like school," she said.

Jenny laughed.

"You have _years_ until college – but I promise, you can go where ever you want, and I'll do anything to make sure you can, okay?"

"Okay," Natalie said.

"You just have to promise me one thing," Jenny said wryly.

" _One_ thing," Natalie repeated. "What?"

Jenny looked from side to side, and leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"You'll be much, much smarter than me."

Natalie laughed softly, tossing her hair. She scrunched her little nose and widened her eyes sweetly.

"Silly Mommy," she trilled.

Jenny smiled at her, and tilted her head. She got out of the car, and came around to help Natalie out, bending to kiss her forehead before she took her hand and swung her down onto the pavement.

"Remember what Mommy starting school means, Bug?" Jenny asked, smoothing Natalie's long hair.

Natalie nodded primly and squeezed Jenny's hand, hopping up and down excitedly.

"We get to do out homework together!"

Jenny laughed, and on a whim, swept Natalie up into her arms and hugged her, figuring that the first day of Kindergarten deserved a little special treatment – Natalie was too big to be carried, and this might be the last time she ever curled up in Jenny's arms and giggled like she was a toddler again.

* * *

Reminiscent of her high school days, on the first day of class she sat front and center – half an hour early.

Well – in high school, she had rarely been that early for class, and in her sophomore year, before Natalie, she'd occasionally sat in the back with Gibbs – never slacking off like him, but enjoying his little nook of academic mediocrity, where she didn't raise her hand every second and make her peers roll their eyes.

It had been so long since she'd been in school, though, and she had so little of an idea of what college would be like – she was starting at the age she should be graduating, she feared how much younger everyone would be, what they'd think of her, she felt out of place already, even in this empty room.

At least it was a night class – that meant more mature students, she assumed; it wouldn't be like her other classes – not that she'd had any yet. It was Monday; her one and only class on Monday was the night class, and it was over at eight, so she'd be home just in time to check on Natalie before she fell asleep.

She sat up straight, touching her hair nervously – she'd been so worried about what to wear; what did one wear to college, anyway? She ended up choosing a casual dusty green dress, and a light coat of her mother's in case she got cold. Her book was brand new. She'd used her left over loan money to splurge on new books. It made her feel better, somehow, about starting so late – fresh, new books, for her to mark up, and panic over, and _study_.

A smile touched her lips.

The classroom door opened, and another student entered. She started in, looked around, grimaced a little sheepishly, and then stepped up to the front, looking around. She hesitated, and then took the seat right next to Jenny, lowering her backpack to the floor with a soft _thunk_.

She was in military fatigues; Jenny recognized them immediately – anyone would, but Jenny had a keener eye than most for exactly what branch, and what rank; her father had taught her well.

They were Navy ACUs; the girl was, if Jenny remembered the insignias correctly, a Petty Officer. What class – well, Jenny wasn't that good.

The girl caught her looking, and Jenny turned away a little, not wanting to stare.

Navy girl cleared her throat.

"I'm always early," she remarked into the silence. "I can't help it. My sister told me that no one shows up to college classes more than five minutes early, but," the girl laughed, maybe a little nervously. "Who wants to take advice from a younger sister?"

Jenny turned a little. She tilted her head.

"Your younger sister went to college before you?" she asked.

She hoped she didn't sound too hopeful, but the idea that this girl – also early, and a little embarrassed about it – was starting late, too –

"Yes," the girl answered. "She did what she was supposed to – top of her class at Catholic school, summa cum laude at Notre Dame," she gave a small sigh. "I thought it would be fun to sow some wild oats first."

Jenny smirked.

"What did you reap?"

"Well, I won a wet t-shirt contest on Spring Break, but I got busted for underage drinking."

Jenny laughed – it was said with such frank acceptance. The girl cracked a wry grin.

"I'm Kate," she said, introducing herself.

"Jenny," Jenny replied. She paused. "I'm getting a late start as well," she added dryly.

Kate arched her brows.

"Hmm, Girls Gone Wild?"

"If you ask my father," Jenny answered, with a laugh. She pursed her lips. "So – did your parents make you join the military?"

Kate shrugged.

"Not so much," she said dryly. "My sister is perfect, my four brothers give them hell, they kind of let me slip through the cracks – after they refused to pay for Villanova, due to my little stunt. _So_ ," Kate drawled. "I decided on boot camp. Totally different than my sister, tougher than my brothers."

"Four?"

"Catholic."

Jenny grinned. Kate tilted her head, and tucked a strand of stick-straight dark brunette hair behind her ear – it was falling out of the austere regulation bun. She had a vague, extremely thin line of freckles on her nose, and she kind of reminded Jenny of Snow White.

"Are you ROTC?"

"No, I'm enlisted," Kate said, shrugging. "I just finished up at the Presidio, Defense – "

"Language institute," Jenny supplied.

"—language, hey, yeah," Kate said, nodding. She smiled, impressed, and pushed on. "So – yeah, I finished up there, and then they sent me to Seal Beach. I decided to milk 'em for the degree while I'm around."

Jenny nodded. She started to ask another question, but Kate cut her off.

"I'm talking a lot – how did you know DLI is at Monterey?"

"My Dad," Jenny answered promptly. "Retired U.S. Army – he did Vietnamese there, when I was little."

"Nice," Kate said. "I was Russian – typical. Navy, submarines, possible submarine warfare – Russian."

"I'm taking Russian," Jenny remarked. "Not anything that intense."

"It's a marketable language," Kate said matter-of-factly. "You'll pick it up nicely."

There were more students filling in now – all of them looking either bored or unenthusiastic, and Jenny leaned towards Kate a little, with a tense glance around the room.

"I get the feeling that being the oldest in college isn't cool like it was in high school," she mumbled.

"You're telling me," Kate said. "These California college students hate the military," she revealed dryly. "I thought I'd be safe staying away from the Berkeleys and the Irvines.

"I like the military," Jenny said honestly.

She felt a twinge of guilt – here she was, slightly starry-eyed and impressed over Kate's military choice and military career, when she'd hardly been able stomach Gibbs' choice to do the same.

Was she sexist, hypocritical?

She bit the inside of her lip, and tried to stop thinking about that.

A student sat down behind Jenny, and propped his feet up on the back of her chair. He lit a cigarette, and Kate shot him a narrow look.

"There are some places talking about making it illegal to smoke inside," she said, her voice rising a little. "California is good for some things."

"Where are you from?" Jenny asked with a laugh – she recognized another Conservative, small-town raised girl when she heard one speak.

"Indiana," Kate answered. "You?"

"Pennsylvania."

"We're a long way from the heartland."

"Neither of those are the heartland."

"Okay, the Amish and the Hoosiers, then."

Both of them laughed, and Jenny felt relieved – she felt less intimidated, to click so instantly with someone; it made her feel less like a pariah, an oddity, an outcast. She sat back in her chair, hitting the guy behind her's feet a little – he moved them, and she smirked triumphantly.

"We should go get drinks after this," Kate said brightly. "Toast to a first class – I know this great place, it's a pier on the beach, kind of - you up for it?"

Jenny opened her mouth eagerly, about to say yes – and then she caught herself; no, she'd promised Natalie she'd be home to tell her all about the day. Natalie was getting to stay up a whole half hour later just to see Jenny – and besides, Jenny needed to go home; she just couldn't go out and drink and socialize and – party – like other people in their early twenties: other than college, she had a baby and a job.

She began to simply vaguely say she couldn't, and then she changed her mind.

"I can't – I have to put my daughter to bed," she said firmly, but with enough regret so that Kate would know she'd really have liked to go.

"Oh – aw, how old's your daughter?"

Jenny smiled wryly.

"Five. She'll be six in November."

Kate blinked sharply – there it was. Jenny watched her brain work as the other girl scrambled to guess how old Jenny must be, and then she tilted her head and pursed her lips with interest.

" _That's_ why your father would say you went wild," she guessed astutely.

"Precisely," Jenny hissed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

Kate leaned over on her arms.

"Can I ask – "

"I'm twenty-two," Jenny interrupted, sensing the question – it was always the next question.

"So you were – "

"Fifteen. Well, sixteen, when she was born."

Kate's mouth opened incredulously.

"Hey – that means you'll be thirty-three when she's eighteen," she said swiftly.

Jenny raised her eyebrows, amused – no one had ever calculated that for her before. She laughed; it was true, after all; an interesting thing for Kate to point out – there were some women who had their first babies at that age.

Jenny swallowed, and then licked her lips.

"She's in school during the day," she began. "So if you're on campus, we can get lunch – or with more notice, I can get a babysitter, but I just can't stay out late. I don't really drink because of – her, so – "

"I'll give you my schedule and we can see about lunch or something," Kate said. "But, you know, I like kids, so if you need to bring her along, I wouldn't mind."

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek. She smiled gratefully – that was such a kind offer, and it simply made her twice as likely to try to get a sitter, because she really needed some time to just have a friend her own age sometimes, and the past two and a half years had been full of constant work, socializing a bare minimum with people she barely knew, and spending most of her time with Natalie or Melanie.

"She's a very good study buddy," Jenny said fondly.

"She is?" Kate asked, bemused.

"Yes," Jenny laughed. "When you look to your left and see a little five-year-old intently working, you feel motivated."

Kate snorted, and nodded, taking her book out of her canvas backpack. She nodded at the front of the room – the professor had walked in.

"Let's see what this guy can teach us about HTML coding," she said, sounding a little pained. "By the way – what's her name, your baby?"

"Natalie," Jenny said proudly.

She liked to talk about her like this. She didn't often get to.

"I like that," Kate said. She winked, and started to turn back to the front, but not before giving Jenny a sidelong look, and nodding her head firmly. "You seem really impressive," she remarked blithely.

Jenny bit her lip, and turned to the front, starting to tune into the beginning of the lecture – even coming from someone she'd just barely met, the words meant so much: she wanted people to see her like that, see how hard she was working – because that's what she'd been doing for the past couple of years, just to get to this single pivotal point – her and Natalie, both safely in school, with at least some semblance of stable futures secured.

* * *

The small room was incredibly cluttered – usually, Jenny kept her and Natalie's space very neat; because of its size, cleanliness and organization was paramount to a peaceful environment. Things had gotten away from her lately, though, and try as she might she couldn't find one of her elementary coding textbooks – and she was trying to wade through laundry to search for it.

"Mommy," Natalie peeked around the corner. "Mommy, I need homework help."

"Okay," Jenny murmured. "One minute, baby – maybe Melly can help you."

"Melly said she's bad at math."

Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Melly can do Kindergarten math," she grumbled to herself.

But she bit her tongue – Melanie was more of a fair-weather adult, these days. It didn't bother Jenny - she'd always expected that to happen once the novelty of having Natalie around wore off.

Jenny pressed her hand to her forehead, and then she shrugged violently and gave up. She grabbed her Russian book and decided she'd get that translation done instead – work had piled up so quickly; it was only _November,_ and she was swamped. It was invigorating, she was only just realized how much she missed academics, but damn – it was like these professors thought the only thing she had to do was their assignments.

Didn't they know that she had to _work_ – occasionally two jobs – and that on top of that, a six-year-old was a full time job in itself? And, ugh, she was sleeping in a room that was fast becoming too small for the both of them to be living in it – but it was still going to take another two or three years for her to get the down payment for her own place – her mother had advised her that it was stupid to move out just to pour rent into a place for no return, and Jenny had decided to stay until she could buy a place.

"Okay, okay," Jenny breathed. She bent over Natalie. "What do you need – stop chewing on this," she said, taking the dog tags out of Natalie's mouth swiftly. "That's gross, Natalie."

"Why?" she asked. "I already took a bath. I put soap on them. And me!"

"It's – bad for your teeth, and, metal, and," Jenny stammered, and then rolled her eyes. She popped the dog tags back in Natalie's mouth. "Fine, then. If it helps you concentrate."

She squinted at the worksheet.

"So, when you do these, you add each column – Natalie," she broke off, taking the paper. "Why are these double digits? What?" exasperated, Jenny examined the page.

What was this teacher trying to do – good god, it was just Kindergarten, and Jenny was staring at a question that asked Natalie what eleven-plus-eleven was.

Natalie turned her head up, her blue eyes wide.

"The other homework is too easy," she said simply, her voice soft and unassuming. "I got bored and did it during book time in class so I got this. I like it."

Jenny stared.

"So – what did you – help with…?" she trailed off.

Natalie took the paper back, and pointed.

"I drew these," she said.

She pointed to handwritten numbers – a _twenty-two_ , in her surprisingly neat but somewhat wobbly handwriting, and a _minus_ , and a _seven_.

"Is this answer fifteen, Mommy?"

Jenny looked, and nodded.

Twenty-two minus seven – yes, fifteen," she agreed. She gave her a look. "Did you figure that out on your own?"

"I don't know," Natalie said simply. She frowned. "I wanted this kind of minus worksheet, but Miss Kent said it was for second graders – but I wanted to know some numbers, because this boy said you were twelve when I was born."

Jenny blinked, appalled.

"Okay – _no_ ," she said. She sat down. "So – wait, then what were you doing here?"

"I know you're twenty-two and I'm six, but I think twelve is too little to have a baby girl."

Jenny rubbed her forehead. She took the pencil gently from Natalie.

She wrote a sixteen, a plus, and a six.

"I was sixteen, Natalie," she said.

"But what about when I was in your ribs?"

"Uterus. That's only nine months. If you count that, I was fifteen."

"Is that too young?"

"Yes," Jenny answered.

Natalie tapped her lips.

"Hmmm," she mused.

"Hmmm," Jenny mused right back. "Put that smart brain back on your colouring project, why don't you?" she coaxed dryly. Jenny smirked and tousled the dog tags at Natalie's throat. She poked her gently in the lips with them. "And maybe keep these between your teeth, chatterbox," she added dryly.

She ruffled Natalie's hair and watched her go back to work – some loudmouth mother must be running her mouth about Jenny, no doubt pissy that Natalie was such an outstanding student – and a good little kid, as well. Jenny had never stopped being quietly but very brazenly younger than everyone else, and there were a few PTA moms – who were appalled that Jenny couldn't find time for the PTA – who whispered behind hands about her.

It was less than she'd faced in Stillwater; they hardly bothered her, but if they were going to start making Natalie ask questions in a roundabout way –

"Jennifer, purple or blue?"

Jenny looked up to the doorway; her mother was holding up dresses.

"Purple," Jenny murmured. "Have you seen my coding book?"

"That awful thing with the alien symbols all over it?"

"It's _Pascal_ , it's a programming language – you can build graphics with it – like I could show your clients visuals of – "

Melanie groaned like a teenager bored in biology. She held up her hand.

"If I saw it, I probably burned it," she joked.

"Dammit," swore Jenny under her breath. "That book was near a hundred bucks – ugh, never mind," she sat down to her Russian book. "Natalie, finish that worksheet, and then it's bed time."

"Can I read a book first?"

Jenny shot her a narrow look.

"If it's less than fifty pages," she said pointedly.

Last night she'd asked if she could read one chapter of a grown up book before bed. Jenny had found her tucked in a corner, reading the dictionary – she considered 'B' to be a chapter, and she barely comprehended half of it.

Natalie smiled sweetly. She peeked over at Jenny's work.

"What do the words say?"

"This one is _flower_ ," Jenny sighed. "This one is," she stared at it, suddenly having trouble making sense of the Cyrillic.

God, she was tired – and after Natalie went to bed, she needed to mend the silk dress one of her clients had brought to her – using Stillwater skills, of course.

"I'll try not to wake anyone up when I come home tonight," Melanie laughed.

"You never wake Bug up, Mom," Jenny said. "She sleeps like her – a – she sleeps like a rock," Jenny said, stumbling over her words.

She'd almost said she slept like Gibbs; she caught herself. She chewed on her lip and cleared her throat – she was really not bringing up Gibbs right now, because Natalie's sixth birthday had come and gone in the past week, and he hadn't called.

Natalie hadn't seemed to notice at all, but it was fourteen days later and there was no card, either. She didn't want to trigger a sudden memory from Natalie; Natalie was too bright for her own good – she was scary smart.

The phone rang, and Melanie answered it back in her room. Jenny got up to get a glass of wine – she didn't begrudge herself a small glass with homework, once Natalie was about to be in bed. She figured it was better Natalie not see drinking as some mysterious wild taboo – she'd be less driven to sneak into it later on.

"Jenny," Melanie came into the room, gesturing at the antique phone on a table in the living area.

"Who is it?" Jenny asked warily. She didn't think it would be Gibbs; he never asked to speak to her – he did it if he happened to get her on the phone, but he didn't ask for her if he was lucky enough to get Melanie.

"Your father."

Jenny stared at her.

"Nat, Grandpa's – "

"No, Jenny, he asked for you," Melanie said swiftly.

She ducked back into her bedroom, finishing getting ready for – whatever she was up to tonight – and Jenny turned, staring at the phone. Her dad…Jasper, like Gibbs, almost never called specifically to talk to her. She swallowed, and her heart leapt into her throat – that couldn't be good, right?

Something could have happened to Jackson, she supposed or –

No, something could have happened to Gibbs.

Jenny kissed Natalie's head and got up, sitting down on the couch. She stared at the phone for a moment, and then picked it up gingerly and held it to her ear.

"Dad?"

"Jennifer. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"No, I'm just glancing at some homework while Natalie finishes – Dad," she broke off, rambling. "Is someone dead?"

"No," Jasper Shepard said tightly. He sounded a little bitter – maybe he didn't like that their relationship had deteriorated to the point that she thought that, if he wanted to talk to her, someone must have met a tragic end. "I called to," he paused, "to see how you are doing."

Jenny blinked.

"Oh," she said. "I'm well," she said awkwardly. "You know, I – well, things are good. I'm tired," she laughed a little, leaning back. She watched the back of Natalie's head for a moment, and then worried her bottom lip with her tongue. "I'm always tired."

"Children can do that to you," he remarked mildly – even with a sense of sympathy. He was quiet for a moment.

"Dad," she started. "I – don't get me wrong, I'd like to talk to you more, but – "

"Your mother told me you started college."

Jenny fell silent.

"The last time we spoke," Jasper said, hesitating. "You didn't mention that you were going to college, Jennifer," he sighed mildly – he sounded a little wistful. "The last time I heard anything about it, you'd gotten some – absurd score on the SAT. You didn't seem to be going anywhere with it."

Jenny grit her teeth. She understood he was reaching out, but some of what he said nettled her.

"I wasn't going anywhere with it at the time because I was still struggling to adjust – and I couldn't afford to do college and childcare, I had to wait until Natalie got to school. It – but you never really listened to me, when I explained that."

He was silent; contritely so.

"I thought you'd have told me you were going."

"Well, Dad, I haven't really gotten the impression you particularly cared what I'm doing with my life."

It felt good to snap that out at him, and to her surprise, he didn't really come back with a disapproving platitude. He cleared his throat.

"Why don't you fill me in?"

Jenny paused.

She looked over at Natalie again.

"Sweetheart," she called. "Will you go brush your teeth and start that book? I'll come tuck you in when I think you've had a generous time to read."

Natalie nodded, and got up, taking her workbook page with her.

"Leave the homework at the table."

"I want to do it!"

"Live life while you can, Bugaboo."

Natalie left the paper, and trudged off to go brush her teeth. Jenny grinned, and held the phone closer to her ear.

"Natalie is smarter than everyone," she cackled proudly. "She's doing second grade math – you'd be so proud, Dad." Jenny sighed. "I love her. She's so perfect."

"Don't start telling her that," Jasper said dryly. "She'll grow up with a complex."

"Oh, I plan to keep her genius a closely guarded secret – from her, specifically," Jenny retorted.

She fell silent, and then took a deep breath.

"Okay, well – I started college at California State, Long Beach," she said. "It's … about forty minutes from Mom's complex, and the commute is a bitch but it was the only school that was cheap but had a good reputation," she felt like she was rambling, so she paused, and swallowed. "They gave me … a decent scholarship, decent."

"You took out a loan?" he guessed.

"I had to," Jenny confessed. "It – it eases things up in general. I'm trying to buy a car, too," she faltered, and went back to school. "I'm working, still, so I'm thinking by the end of it I can break even on the loan."

"You still at that library?"

"Huh-uh," Jenny answered. "No, they demoted – made everyone volunteers. For a while I was just subsisting on the seamstress work I was getting, but then a couple of months ago I started waiting tables again – exhausting, but, cash."

Jasper made an approving noise.

"What are you studying?"

"Information technology, and political science."

He whistled sharply.

"That's shrewd," he said sincerely. "Computers, IT stuff – those jobs are going to marketable, Jennifer, I'm glad to hear you're thinking so practically."

Jenny made a noncommittal noise – he'd never given her enough credit in that department; they didn't always see eye-to-eye on practical, but she'd never really thought herself to be an out of control dreamer. Dissatisfied with what she should have grinned and borne, maybe, but not fanciful.

"It's challenging, and I don't love it, but it's stimulating," she demurred. "The struggle is more – I have to use the on campus computer labs so much, and sometimes I just have to take Natalie with me. I know it bores her, but she behaves very well, while I do homework."

"Mel won't watch her?"

Jenny laughed shortly.

"Dad – you know I love her, I'm grateful to her for everything, but there is one mother in this household, and she's twenty-two."

Jasper snorted.

Jenny swallowed, chewing on her lip again.

"I've been saving as much as I can – that's sort of why I took a loan for school. Student loans have much more forgiving repayment and deferment plans – and I simply needed to save the other money to – well, Natalie and I are still sharing a room."

"Ah," Jasper said mildly. "You plan to get your own apartment soon?"

"The plan is a condominium in the area," Jenny said simply. "Mom knows some good ones, decently priced. That way I'm paying monthly to _own_ , not just throwing rent away."

"That's an astronomical expense – "

"I know," Jenny said softly. She paused, and cringed – she didn't know how he'd react to this. "Mom – Mom is going to match whatever I have at the end of ninety-two. To help me out."

Jasper was quiet.

"Your mother is very generous," he said finally – nothing more, nothing less; just calm acceptance of the deal.

Jenny breathed a sigh of relief.

"You have plans for after college?"

"Daddy," she said, sighing. "I'm – I'm just reveling in the fact that I finally got here," she said. "My plan for after college is to keep Natalie at the top of her class and out of some blue-eyed knockout's hayloft."

It was a light joke, but of course it had scarily significant meaning behind it.

"Speaking of," Jasper said dryly. "Do you speak to Leroy?"

Jenny looked down the hall; no sight of Natalie. She sank back into the couch a little, and brought her pinky to her lips, biting the tip warily. She shook her head, and then realized he couldn't see her.

"No," she said quietly, her voice steady. "He – as a matter-of-fact, he didn't call on Bug's birthday, this year."

She sensed her father's unease, then his irritation. He sighed heavily.

"I did think that he was a better man than that," he said grudgingly. "I thought, down to my bones, that he'd fight for that little girl."

Jenny swallowed hard.

"I don't think it's that simple, Dad," she said guiltily.

She didn't tell him about the last time they'd seen each other; how painful and uncomfortable it had been – how eerie and wrong it had felt, the argument over Natalie, and him being around – Jenny's uncertainty and guilt.

"Don't – make up your mind about Jethro," Jenny sighed tiredly. "I don't know what I did to him. Maybe I broke him."

"That is not Natalie's fault," Jasper said brashly.

"No," Jenny agreed softly.

But she didn't bear much ill will towards Gibbs on that front – any moment in which she felt bitter or nettled that he hadn't fought for Natalie, or that he didn't try harder, a second later she was running from those feelings because she dreaded the day when he'd stop wavering on what to do and demand every single one of his rights.

It wasn't, it wasn't, it really wasn't that she was keeping Natalie from Gibbs; but Jenny was selfishly terrified of what would happen if they tried to do joint custody now – if they tried to drag Natalie all over the country, in ten different directions.

"Jennifer, I don't know how much time you have to watch the news – "

"I'm a poly sci minor, Dad," she interrupted. "My classes are all full of debates concerning to what extent our arming the Mujahedeen in nineteen-seventy-nine caused this Gulf situation."

"Beware that gulf situation," Jasper said bluntly. "Marines are always the first in."

Jenny paused, but before she could say anything, Natalie crept in. She yawned, and held out a hairbrush.

"I'm all tangled," she simpered. "Can you sing me a lullaby?"

Jenny held the phone down, and beckoned her over, nodding.

"Here, talk to Grandpa while I brush your hair," she said gently, pulling Natalie into her lap – thus ending the direction of that conversation, because the brief fear that paralyzed her at the thought of Gibbs – thrust into that mess was something she didn't want to talk about.

"Hello, Grandpa," Natalie said politely into the phone. She paused. "I'm happy," she said, answering his generic greeting. "Grandpa, did you know Mommy was sixteen when she had a baby?"

Jenny closed her eyes and let her head fall forward to the crown of Natalie's head, glaring through her eyelids and straight down into Natalie's devious, too-smart little brain. It figured – the six-year-old wunderkind would bring up the most irritating thing that had ever happened to Jasper right when he decided to stop being such an ass about it.

* * *

It had been three years, give or take some months, and Jenny had yet to tire of the California weather. Sitting on the balcony of the second-floor condominium with a cozy sweater on and a Russian book in her lap, she kept her ears open and listened to Natalie play with Emma, a friend from school.

It was the girls' last day of freedom before the winter holidays were over, and Jenny was supervising a play date; later, Emma's mom was taking the girls to the cinema so Jenny could get some more hardcore studying in – hardcore as in, at the computer lab on campus.

Jenny had struck up an unlikely friendship with Emma's mom; in contrast to Jenny, Michelle was the oldest mom among the Kindergarten parents. She was working on her doctorate, and her husband had wanted to finish paying his medical school loans before they had a baby. Michelle and Jenny were from very different backgrounds, but they still stuck out like sore thumbs – Jenny because she had a six-year-old at twenty-two, Michelle because she had a six-year-old at forty-six.

The girls played in the little courtyard that Melanie's condominium backed up to; Jenny wasn't sure exactly what they were doing, but they were demure and quiet – with the occasional shrieking giggle – so Jenny didn't bother them too much, as long as they stayed in sight.

She turned her attention back to the sentence structure she was going over – the test she had coming up in this class was on grammar and composition; she much preferred vocabulary. She liked to teach Natalie Russian vocabulary as a study mechanism, and Natalie responded by teaching her California history.

The wind blew, and Jenny pulled her sweater around her comfortably, trailing a pen lightly under a rule she needed to memorize. She'd been so busy trying to keep abreast of her work during the break – even get ahead – that sometimes Russian got mixed in her head with technical code and she didn't know if she was building a soviet computer or learning how to program a Bolshevik.

Still – her first semester of college had gone as well as Natalie's first semester of Kindergarten, and Jenny felt she had finally gotten used to the hectic nature of being in school, working, and a parent all at once – though she'd been grateful for the Christmas break.

"Mommy," Natalie yelped.

"Yes?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Morgan," Jenny answered.

She didn't look up. A moment later, Natalie shouted:

"What's Melly's middle name?"

Jenny arched a brow, looking up a little.

"Prudence," she called, waiting.

She heard a shrill giggle.

"Prune-sense," Emma snickered.

"Pru-DENSE," Natalie corrected. She hopped back and Jenny saw her put her hands on her hips thoughtfully. "Nope, don't like those," she decided.

"What are you naming?" Jenny asked warily.

"Emma and I found a gecko," Natalie answered.

Jenny made a face – she wasn't surprised. Natalie still hadn't grown out of her penchant for all things creepy and crawly. Jenny was starting to regret ever letting the nickname _Bug_ stick.

"How do you know it's not a boy lizard?" Jenny asked.

"Hmm," Natalie murmured. "What's your Grandpa's middle name?"

Jenny hesitated, and then frowned – what was…?

"Patrick," she answered – right, it was so normal, she always forgot it came after _Jasper_.

Natalie and Emma let out groans – apparently nothing was clicking.

"Name him after your Daddy," Emma said.

"No," giggled Natalie. "He's named after the Beverly Hillbillies."

Jenny looked up sharply.

"Natalie, your father's name isn't Jed," she corrected. "It's _Jeth-ro_."

Natalie giggled. Emma laughed.

"Gecko Jethro," Emma tried.

Natalie tumbled over onto her back, laughing, and their voices faded again, so Jenny could only hear a soft mumble. She shook her head, grinning in spite of herself, and for an peculiar, fleeting moment, she thought – _I can't wait to tell Gibbs_ –

-and then that thought was gone, and she closed her eyes briefly before looking back to her Russian book, and ignoring the wistful voices in her head.

She bit the inside of her cheek and went back to annotating her Russian text, making note of declensions and proper usage of certain verbs – what sort of tense they indicated … she made a personal note to consult Kate about one of the rules – the rule with the _yehr_ sound, she didn't get it – and then the phone next to her rang, nearly startling her out of her skin.

Melanie had recently invested in one of those all-the-rage cordless phones, thrilled that she'd never miss a call anymore since she could take it everywhere – but Melanie wasn't home right now, and Jenny kept the phone with her just in case she called.

She picked it up, but she was so distracted – and her heart was still racing from the shrill sound – that she answered, without thinking, in Russian, miraculously getting the accent incredibly accurate – maybe because she'd been trying to force herself to read silently in Russian while she studied, instead of translating it first.

There was an awkward silence, and as she realized what had happened, she blinked, and shook her head, smiling to herself in embarrassment, and flushing.

"Think I got the wrong number."

Her smile faded in an instant.

"No," she said sharply – and in unmistakable English. "It's – it's me, Jethro, it's Jenny."

Silence again. He cleared his throat heavily.

"You, ah, thinkin' about movin' across the world, instead of just the country?"

She closed her eyes lightly, worrying the inside of her lip with her teeth.

"No," she said softly. "No, I'm – " she started to tell him she was in college, and then she stopped cold.

She didn't know how he'd feel about that; maybe it would remind him of why she'd left, or maybe he would at least know that she'd done exactly what she wanted to, exactly what she said California would help her do.

"It's just something I'm doing," she said finally, her voice feeble.

She fell silent, and stared down at the girls; they were both intently focused on their little gecko – it seemed they were building it a house to keep it closer.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered.

"You talkin' to me, Jen?" he prompted.

She parted her lips hesitantly.

"It's just … the girls, they named a gecko after you," she said, almost as if in a trance. "Gecko Jethro."

His silence this time sounded – yes, sounded – confused; heavy.

"Girls?" he stressed the plural.

"Natalie has a friend over."

He shuffled around. She worried her lip some more; it had been so long since he'd called, she'd almost decided to assume he'd really thrown in the towel concerning her.

Natalie was getting older; this was going to start getting sticky and messy and – odd. She wondered why he was calling now, when he'd missed her birthday, and Thanksgiving and Christmas; she had half a mind to quietly tell him it was best to just let Natalie forget, but what right did she have to do that?

"Why did they name it after me?"

"They're little girls. They just…do things like that."

He grunted vaguely.

"Wouldn't know," he said.

She bristled.

"Did you call to take potshots at me?" she asked sharply, raising her voice a little.

Natalie looked up, and Jenny forced her face into a relaxed smile, waggling her fingers at her as if nothing was wrong. She put her finger to her lips, indicating she was on the phone, and reminded herself to keep her voice low.

"I meant to call on her birthday," he said after a moment, his voice a little raw.

He sounded tired; hesitant. She wondered what was wrong, but she was afraid to ask.

"She had a good one anyway," Jenny said cautiously. "I took her roller blading."

"Tired to put somethin' in the mail for Christmas," he added, ignoring her comment. "It got sent back to me – "

"You sent a card," Jenny said, her brow furrowing. She frowned – they had gotten a card, but it hadn't been Gibbs' usual; he usually included a letter with Natalie's birthday or Christmas packages, and Jenny always took that sealed letter and placed it with the first he'd ever sent.

She used to hoard them, not reading them, to give to Natalie when Natalie could read, but more and more she was realizing she was afraid to give them to her daughter; afraid of what they would say.

She paused, leaning forward.

"It wasn't your handwriting," she murmured to herself – she'd noticed that, back in December, but somehow, she'd forgotten. "Who sent the card?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"Look, I'll find a way to get the Christmas gift to her – got to figure out the post system," he muttered, as if he were angry at himself.

"Jethro," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Where are you?"

He breathed in and out heavily, and she turned her head, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you still at Pendleton?" she asked carefully, her voice small.

That's where he'd been, the last time she saw him. He'd just been selected for sniper school, and changed station – she'd met him to see Natalie – Pendleton, just two hours away, and if he'd been there since sniper school –

Two hours.

He finally answered.

"PCS'd to Monterey right after I qualified," he said dully. She heard him shifting around. "Language; intelligence training. Haven't gotten a break," he growled stiffly.

Pendleton, Monterey – still, all this time; in the same state. That said it all, didn't it? This was irreparable; she should have known there would never be peaceful little visits, even after time had passed.

"What language?"

"Arabic."

She caught her breath.

"And you're still at Monterey…?"

"Germany," he cut her off abruptly. "Jen," he started warily. He swallowed. "I'm deploying to Kuwait."

She closed her eyes heavily, leaning back in her chair. She put her hand against her heart as if she could soothe it, and she clenched her teeth together – the Marines were always the first in. Her father had warned her, and still, she was so used to forcing herself not to think about Gibbs that – that she hadn't even prepared herself for the thought that he might be thrust into that god-awful desert mess.

"Germany?" her voice sounded panicky, and she knew it. "But why – well, they always deploy out of Germany," she said, half to herself, answering her own question.

Most of the central commands were there, and if there were joint operations involved.

"When did you go to Germany? Is that why you haven't called? _Kuwait_ , Jethro – "

"It happened fast," he said dryly; coldly.

She rubbed her elbow with her free hand, tensely pressing her fingertips into her skin. She grappled with something to say – what did he want to hear, why was he calling to tell her? For – some kind of comfort, for hope?

She sucked in her breath, licking her lips, and he cleared his throat.

"I don't know how to tell Natalie," he said warily. "Thought you'd have a better idea of where to start – "

Without thinking, she blurted –

"You aren't telling Natalie a damn thing!"

The silence that followed felt like a punch to the gut. She didn't – she wasn't sure why she'd reacted so violently, except she knew as soon as she said it, that she was going to stand by it.

"Why the hell not, Jenny?" he asked dangerously.

"Why do you _think_?" she hissed. She turned slightly, after a glance to check on the girls – they were braiding flowers into each other's hair now. "You can't just call up and tell my daughter that you're off to a warzone – she doesn't even know what deployment means – "

"I want my daughter to know I'm thinkin' about her before I – "

"You can't do that, Jethro, you cant!" she cried hoarsely, tears springing to her eyes. "You're so – I'm sorry, I don't want to – I know this is harsh, but you're so abstract to her, you're so – out of sight out of mind and I can't have to suddenly explain to her what deployment is, and the risks, and have her worry about something she can't comprehend – she can't even process feelings about you, really – "

"That isn't my fault," he snarled aggressively. "You're the one who's made it impossible –

"You've were in California for a year – as far as I know – and you made no effort, you barely even call – "

"You made it clear you didn't want me confusing her and you damn well know it, Jenny!" he shouted.

She flinched, flinched at the memory of their last meeting – she had expressed a wariness that Natalie wouldn't understand any of this, why she rarely saw her father, why any of it was happening the way it was – she hadn't necessarily meant for him to – stay away.

"Jethro," she said sharply, trying to calm herself. "Jethro, I don't want to have this conversation with her. It would be different if we were – togeth – married – "

"You made sure that didn't happen, Jen," he said icily. "You don't think she should know? That's your problem – then it's your problem, too, when you've got to tell her I'm dead," he snapped viciously. "Or would you keep that from 'er, too?"

She opened her mouth, wrapping one arm around her middle.

"Gibbs," she said quietly. "Don't – _don't_ go into this thinking you won't come back," she pleaded, switching gears almost instantly. "My father always – he always said the most important thing was the drive to come back."

She thought she was giving him good counsel; his response made her blood run cold.

"What do I have to come back to?"

She wasn't sure if he said it to spite her, to scare her, to vent his true frustration, or all of the above – but her mouth felt as dry as cotton, and she felt an overwhelming mixture of devastation and – anger. Devastation for obvious reasons – guilt was at the root of that – but the anger flared because she felt it was emotional blackmail; she thought it was cruel, that he'd – that he'd suggest –

That she'd drive him to – suicide.

"You have a daughter," she said fiercely.

Her eyes stung again, and her hands were shaking. She tried to hold the phone steady.

"You have a _daughter_ , and you _love_ her – and I don't want that little girl laying awake at night, scared and worried that you're going to die, when she barely knows you. I know that's my fault. I know that. But she's not going to suffer for my mistakes. She cries for dead spiders, Jethro. She cries for dead spiders. I'm not going to put this burden on her. She's _six_."

Jenny paused, and licked her lips.

"But if you _ever_ tell me you have nothing to come back to again, I will find out where you are and I will make you remember. I don't give a damn if you hate me, Jethro. But your life is worth more than what I did to you. Your life means more to other people."

She sucked in her breath and swallowed the rest of her rage – she hardly even knew what she was saying anymore, she just knew she didn't want him going off to battle with the notion that she'd be relieved if it killed him; that her life would be less complicated. She was on the verge of promising him he could have every weekend he wanted, that she'd suck it up, she'd suffer the discomfort, she'd make herself face him every day, if he just – didn't take too many risks.

And she didn't even know why she felt the way she did; she had run away, she had cut him out, and yet there was so much conflict in her whenever he was involved – and maybe it all boiled down to the dark fear that rested in the back of her mind, that Natalie would hate her one day for choosing to get more freedom and independence, to follow her own path, instead of becoming a Marine's wife in the hopes that she'd make her own way someday.

He sighed heavily.

"I want to talk to her."

"You won't tell her, Jethro. You – "

"Jesus Christ, Jen, let me talk to her," he growled. He paused, and the quiet was deafening. "I want to hear her voice," he confessed huskily. "Jenny, I just want to hear her, before I go."

She stood up immediately.

"Natalie Winter," she called, steadying her own voice as much as possible. She forced a bright smile. "Natalie, there's a gecko on the phone for you."

"What's that mean, Mommy?" Natalie asked, looking up, confused. Then she cocked her head. "Daddy?"

Jenny nodded.

"He'd like to talk, honey, come on," Jenny encouraged.

Natalie scrambled up and came flouncing towards the condos. Jenny heard her coming up the breezeway stairs, and then behind her, the apartment door opened and Natalie came gracefully through the living area onto the balcony.

Her hair flew behind her as she skipped up and reached for the phone.

"It's Daddy?" she asked.

Jenny nodded. Natalie took the phone.

"But it's not my birthday," she said astutely.

"It doesn't have to be your birthday for him to talk to you," Jenny said gently.

Natalie put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Daddy," she greeted politely.

A moment later, she burst into giggles.

"Maybe he looks like you, are you green and slimy and slithery?"

Jenny walked towards the balcony rail, looking down toe check on Emma – Emma seemed to have lost the gecko; she was frantically crawling around searching. Perhaps Natalie wouldn't be too disappointed, since she had the real deal – the real Jethro that is – for a momentary odd distraction.

Jenny already felt that dread in her chest, wary of what Natalie would want to talk about – she was shamefully glad that Michelle was going to pick Emma and Natalie up soon, because that might distract Natalie long enough that a painful little conversation wouldn't ensue.

The redhead pushed her hair back, chewing on her lip nervously. She licked her lips when she drew blood, and clenched her teeth to stop gnawing on herself – god, if she felt this way about him deploying, when they barely spoke and weren't even together, she couldn't imagine what life would be like if she were married, helpless at home, maybe working, while he did this –

-for a brief moment, the wild thought occurred to her that she should have just married him; he'd ended up in California, hadn't he? She could have stayed here, done the same college, just made it work somehow, her parents had done that, hadn't they - ?

No; no – she knew herself. It wouldn't have worked out this way; it just wouldn't have. It was a cruel twist of fate that he spent time in California, but if she'd stayed, if she'd married him just because that's what young, ruined girls did, her life would be different – it would have just –

"Mommy," Natalie said.

Jenny turned, and she was handing her the phone. Jenny put it to her ear, but Natalie rose on tiptoes and shook her head.

"No, he hung up," she said mildly. "He had to go. I heard _boys_ yelling," she snickered.

Jenny put the phone aside and knelt down, putting her hands on Natalie's shoulders. She hesitated, and then pushed Natalie's hair back, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead.

"I love you," she said, probably startling the child.

Natalie nodded.

"I love you, too," she said obediently.

She twisted her fingers blithely in the dog tags around her neck.

"Is my last name the same as his?" she asked curiously, tilting her head.

Jenny blinked, a little taken aback. She nodded, licking her lips.

"Yes, it – "

"Why isn't my name like yours and Melly's?"

"Well, I never married your father," Jenny mumbled anxiously.

"But Grandpa and Melly are not married, and they're the same."

"Melly likes being a Shepard," Jenny said quietly. "I just chose to stay that way."

"I want to be a Shepard girl," Natalie said smugly, tossing her hair.

Jenny pushed her hair back and shook her head, leaning forward and touching her forehead to hers.

"No, you don't," she said softly.

Natalie crinkled her nose a little.

"Mommy?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Daddy sounded scared," Natalie said matter-of-factly – perceptively.

Jenny looked up, her face white. She licked her lips carefully, and pursed her lips, waving her hand as flippantly as she could manage.

"Nah, nonsense," she soothed lightly, keeping the tremble out of her voice. "Daddy's not – he's never been afraid of anything."

Natalie beamed, and Jenny gave her a quick hug, standing up. She took her hand, and turned her towards the door.

"Let's see if we can find that gecko," she encouraged quietly, going with her through the living room, down the stairs, to the courtyard –

-all the while thinking – she had always been the one who was afraid, who ran away, who was terrified of her mistakes and her future, of Gibbs and his calm acceptance, even – and now she was scared something was going to happen to him in Kuwait, and she'd blame herself for the rest of her life – not for his death, but for taking his daughter away from him.

* * *

Jenny sat cross-legged on a picnic blanket, a picturesque basket at her knee and Natalie darting around with some friends she'd made a little ways off. She didn't worry too much about her daughter; on a military base, with some many watchful moms and highly trained dads, she had little to fear.

"Thanks for doing this, Kate," Jenny said, nodding her head over at the stage, and the giant drive-in like screen set up on the expansive parade field.

"No problem at all!" Kate said, waving her hand. She sat forward, resplendent in civilian clothes, and swept her cap off her head, shaking her hair out. "I figured there's never a bad time for free entertainment – hell, I want to see the movie, anyway," she laughed. "Has she - ?"

"Oh, she loves it," Jenny said earnestly. "I took her to see it in the theatre – her first movie in the theatre, actually. She was so good – sat there silently with wide-eyes the whole time."

Kate laughed, drawing her knees up and glancing over at Natalie. She drew a beer out of her cooler and twisted the top off elegantly with her palm, tossing it aside.

Jenny leaned back on her hands.

It was Spring Break for California State – in a miraculous, almost unbelievable twist of fate, it was Spring Break for Daisy Road Elementary, too, and Kate Todd – the fast friend Jenny had made her first day of class – had invited her and Natalie to one of the family events on her Navy base.

It was a concert and a movie, basically; an Army tribute band had played, and now as the sun set, the Disney film _The Little Mermaid_ was about to start playing – and it had been free, thanks to Kate's handy military identification.

"They do this kind of thing every once in a while – this is a big one, though," Kate said airily. "There are – six, no, ten? Ten guys home from Kuwait, so it's part of a welcome."

Jenny turned her head thoughtfully – Kuwait; everyone seemed to be coming home from Kuwait. The victory speeches from the triumphant president were fading, but the fires still seemed to be raging in the gulf, and Jenny had stopped watching the news for fear of assuming the worst.

As it were, she was in the dark about everything.

She looked away, over at Natalie again – she was playing ring-around-the-rosy with an officer's daughter – and the officer himself, Jenny noticed with a small laugh. Kate leaned forward, nudging her elbow.

"Want a beer?" she whispered. "The movie's over an hour. One won't hurt."

Jenny started to demure, and then she shrugged, and accepted one. One crisp Sam Adams wasn't going to hurt her, nor would it scar Natalie for life to see it. Particularly, Jenny thought dryly, since Natalie had seen Melanie come home raging drunk a week ago – not that it had been necessarily ugly; just goofy and slightly embarrassing.

Kate took another sip of hers, and cleared her throat. Before she could say anything, though, one of the senior officers took the stage and called for a moment of thanks for the returning veterans of Desert Storm and Desert Shield, which of course turned in to a standing ovation.

Natalie dashed to Jenny to see what to do, and Jenny placed her little hand over her heart and clapped along with everyone else, her eyes on the men who raised their hands in solemn salute.

Was Gibbs still in the desert? Had he come back yet? Would he come back?

She swallowed hard – she kept telling her self, since February, when they had started coming home, that no news was a good thing; she knew no chaplain would come to her with a flag, since she wasn't family, but she did feel fairly certain that if Jackson Gibbs himself didn't call her, at least Jasper would hear it through the grapevine and pass it on.

The silence, she thought, the lack of information, had to mean he was all right.

He could be a prisoner – but she didn't like that thought, either.

She sat down slowly, as the applause faded and the movie started up with loud music.

"Mommy, Mommy is it okay with I sit with Macy? She's over there," Natalie pointed, to the girl she'd been playing her games with. "Macy, and her sister Lucy?"

Jenny glanced over, and caught the other mother's eye. She nodded, and waved her hand, and Jenny gave Natalie the okay.

"Be quiet and respectful," she said.

Natalie lunged forward and kissed her cheek.

"Yes, Mommy," she murmured, scampering just a small ways off.

With a sigh, Jenny sat back, her light mood a little heavier. The beer was lukewarm in her hand, and despite the carefree nature of the movie, something about the welcome home made her feel better.

"Have you ever been deployed, Kate?" she asked curiously – she realized she didn't know.

"Yes," Kate said promptly. "Right after boot camp, and MOS training. I was on a carrier near the coast of Africa."

"Hmm," Jenny murmured, turning to look at her. "What was it like?"

Kate scrunched her nose.

"Salty," she said vaguely. She smiled apologetically. "It's all classified, Jenny," she warned.

"Ah."

Kate cleared her throat, reaching out and grasping Jenny's shirtsleeve loosely. She gave her a look, and tipped back her beer.

"Deployments," she said, lowering her voice. "Isn't," she nodded her head at Natalie, and omitted a few words as she went on: "in Kuwait?"

Jenny sighed, turning away from Natalie a little.

"I don't know," she said tiredly. "I haven't heard from him—that's where they sent him, though."

Kate knew quite a bit about Gibbs – at least, she knew the gist of the story, and occasionally Jenny had quiet talks with her about him. There was no one else she really could talk to, and Kate was her only close, best friend; she had acquaintances and social contacts, but her life seemed to be Natalie, school, Melanie, and work.

She swallowed hard, and picked at the label of her beer.

"I worry about him," she admitted quietly.

She sighed.

"He doesn't…have anyone," she said, flushing guiltily. "He hates his father, and his mother died soon after Natalie was born," she mumbled. "I have this nightmare that I'm standing on the porch of my old house in Pennsylvania, but it's looking over the Arabian Desert. And he's lying there, dead, with a flag flapping over him, but there's no one to fold it; and no one ever gets him and brings his body home. He just … is buried, forgotten."

Kate looked at her with large, solemn dark eyes.

"That's an awful dream," she said softly, her mouth turning down sympathetically.

Jenny hit her teeth together lightly.

"I don't know what I'd tell Natalie if something happened to him," she confessed dully. "I know she has – almost no relationship with him, but … he's her father," Jenny said. "And…she doesn't remember, and that's not her fault at all, but I think he used to be her favorite."

Jenny looked down at her lap and laughed sarcastically.

"Maybe that's part of why I stole her away."

Kate scooted closer, putting her hand on Jenny's shoulder.

"I don't know the whole story," she said with a shrug. She smiled wryly. "I think it's a damn sight more complicated than that."

Jenny shook her beer a little and winked stiffly.

"One day, I'll figure it out," she joked.

Kate sat back a little, and then sat forward.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yes, Kate, God, I miss having a best friend," Jenny laughed – she felt a little wary of being _questioned_ , but she also felt like talking.

Kate seemed to hesitate.

"Why didn't you just move in with your mother when he joined up?" she asked. "Not behind his back, but…well, with him all over the place, it didn't matter where you were, did it?"

Jenny gave her a grim look – slightly irritated, because she hated that question; because she'd asked herself that before.

"Everything fell apart so fast," she said heavily. "His mother – she was…kind of our saving grace. When she died…this whole world we had, it shattered around us. Suddenly being teenagers with a baby seemed a lot darker and nastier, with no one in our corner – our fathers – "

Jenny trailed off. She chewed on her lip a moment.

"Neither of us were ever with anyone else, not even casually," she said huskily, "and then we had a baby, and then he was joining the Marines and talking about marriage, and I was barely graduating high school – ah," she broke off, closing her eyes at the memory of harder, more suffocating times.

She sighed harshly.

"I think it was more than me wanting to get out of Stillwater. I was just…scared."

She couldn't put into words of what – she'd been scared of so much, really. That Gibbs was more like his father than he thought, that she'd get trapped, that she'd start to hate him – and ironically, her fear of letting her love turn to resentment had resulted in his bitter anger towards her, and the fracturing of everything they'd ever had.

She laughed quietly, turning to Kate.

"You know, I was thinking the other day, about him, and one thing I miss – I miss the sex," she confessed, her voice hushed.

Kate let out an amused snort, and then quieted herself.

"You know, that feeling, you're fine, you can live without it and then one day – " she whistled, and Kate gave her a wry look.

"Uh, no," she said bluntly. "I've never had sex."

Jenny pulled back warily, an anxious look on her face. She forgot, sometimes, that her life events hadn't exactly been the norm – Kate wasn't that old; they were the same age, in fact, and maybe if Jenny had been smarter, she'd be Kate.

"Easy," Kate laughed. "I'm not judging you – I'm very Catholic. Very hard to, uh, shake that…Catholic," she snorted. She shrugged. "I've never met anyone."

Jenny chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment, and then she cleared her throat.

"There's no way I can say this without sounding like I regret Natalie," she said in a low voice, "but I envy you."

Kate tilted her head.

"It was that bad?" she teased.

Jenny laughed hoarsely. She shook her head.

"It wasn't spectacular," she remembered fondly. "It got better," she added, nodding to herself. "The first time – it was New Year's Eve, and we were in this barn, kind of our _place_ – it was so cold, I mean, there was snow on the ground, and it kind of numbed everything," she laughed, her voice catching. "He picked all the hay out of my hair later," she murmured.

She took a swig of her beer, and watched the movie for a moment.

"Jesus," she said to herself. "I was _way_ too young to be having sex."

She closed her eyes.

"I dread this conversation with Natalie," she said hollowly. "This, and talking about her father – one day, I'm going to try to tell her to never get pregnant as a teenager, and she's going to think I hate her – or think it's okay, because I'm going to give her a good life –"

"Jenny?" Kate interrupted. "Natalie's very smart. She's six, and everyone can tell how bright she is," she said softly. She shook her head. "I think she'll be able to grasp the difference between regret, and wishing you had been more prepared."

"That's it, that's it!" Jenny said hoarsely. "I look at her and I think, God, do you know how much more I could have given you if I'd been older? How much better I'd be at this?"

The redhead shook her head wildly.

"I – we – thought we were so mature. We got the condoms. We snuck out. It was senseless. Taking risks like that – "

"But," Kate intervened. "You said it, you used protection. You were smart – "

"Not smart enough."

"Jenny," Kate said, exasperated. "It's not like you were the town bicycle, you just told me it was him and only him, always. I don't think sex is so wrong in that situation – "

"We were children," Jenny said tiredly. "Look, Kate – I'm not saying I'm going to hell, or that I'm a sinner," she hesitated, "but considering how few options we had, and how unreliable condoms notoriously are, it was blatantly irresponsible for us to – if you're too young to handle the consequences, you shouldn't be – "

Jenny frowned, breaking off. She'd berated herself for this so many times; _they just should have waited._

"I should have just given him the blow job."

Kate nearly spit out her beer, covering her mouth with a loud _slap_. She turned wide eyes to Jenny, and her brow furrowed.

" _What_ does _that_ have to do with it?"

Jenny looked at her very seriously.

"That's why this happened."

"I don't follow."

"We started having sex because I thought blowjobs sounded gross."

Kate's mouth fell open. Jenny nodded, and pointed at her gaping throat.

"See, all I had to do was that, and _snap_! No baby."

Kate gave into a quiet peal of giggles, and Jenny turned, bursting into a grin herself. She laughed, and tucked her hair back.

"But," she said, half to herself. "I do love that baby."

"Of course you do," Kate said. She shrugged. "Teenagers shouldn't have babies, Jenny, we all know that. I'm twenty-two, and I still do stupid things on a whim – three years ago I was taking my shirt off for drinks in Panama City," she laughed.

"You know," Kate went on, "you're doing a really impressive job, for someone who's young enough to put go-go boots on a six-year-old."

"She looked so cute in those!"

Kate fell back on the blanket, laughing, and Jenny kicked her in the ankle, falling back next to her.

"You don't think a grown-up Mom would do go-go boots?" she challenged.

Kate snickered.

"My mom would have set herself on fire first!"

The girls set to quietly laughing again, and when it died down, Kate turned her head.

"You regret having sex with him?" she asked.

Jenny hesitated – that's the thing; she didn't. She regretted getting pregnant, but she loved and wanted Natalie. She struggled to cope with some of the things she'd had to let go of and go through, but living without Natalie was incomprehensible to her now, and when it came to Gibbs –

"No," she said, very quietly. "Mm, I really did love him, Kate. Even when the sex was bad, it was good because I loved him."

"You still love him?" Kate asked.

Jenny shrugged helplessly, and looked up at the stars.

"I had his baby," she said simply. "I won't ever _not_ love him."

She blinked at the moon, and wondered if he was in some desert, seeing the same one; she wondered if he was alone in some hospital, or forced back to Stillwater – or was he on some sunny beach on leave, enjoying a U.S. victory, drinking away the witch who'd taken his child and broken the idyllic life he thought he could construct for them.

Her throat felt tight, and she closed her eyes, trying not to worry, trying not to stress.

"Mommy."

It was a soft whisper in her ear, Natalie crawling up beside her.

"Macy and Lucy fell asleep," the little girl whispered, snuggling up against Jenny.

She sat up, while Jenny lay on her back, and she slipped her hand into Jenny's hunkering down to watch the movie. Jenny sat up and pulled her close, kissing her protectively and lovingly. Natalie grinned and sprawled over her lap.

"Natalie," Jenny said softly and gently, reaching for the chain around her daughter's throat. "Get those out of your mouth," she said, taking the dog tags gently from between Natalie's teeth.

The cold metal stung her skin, and she compressed her lips; these little things had teeth marks, worry marks; they were scuffed, and the chain was a little rusted. Jenny looked down at Natalie – she always had these in her mouth, always had them around her neck – yes, Jenny had put them there, but it struck her as odd that Natalie, despite deciding never to take them off, never asked about them; she didn't brood, she didn't demand, didn't investigate curiously; they just rested at her heart, day in and day out.

Jenny wondered, desperately, what was going on in that bright, smart little head; in the secret corners of her mind, what did Natalie think about her father, her mother? What did she think had happened – did she long for him, or had she let herself forget, be blissfully unaware?

Jenny swallowed, and looked up to watch the movie, pressing her beer against her chest, holding it there with white knuckles. She wondered if she'd hear from him, or if she'd have to swallow her pride and call Stillwater, just to hear out loud, from somewhat, of what had happened to him in Kuwait. She felt the slow rise-and-fall of Natalie's breathing under her arm as it rested over the little girl, and she wondered if the ties were finally broken, if Gibbs, in the face of whatever had happened with his deployment – if he had made it – had finally given up on her, and her mad, indecisive humors.

* * *

"Well my heart, it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to  
and my eyes, they don't see you no more."  
The Killers; For Reasons Unknown

* * *

 _feedback really really [really] appreciated ! :D_

 _-alexandra_


	3. Losing Touch

_a/n: well, here we are, half-way through!_

* * *

Los Angeles, California: 1992-1993

Losing Touch

* * *

The condominium was smaller than the elegant one Melanie owned two streets over and one street back. It still had two bedrooms, but there was no spacious parlor, the kitchen was more conservative, and the living room was just enough rather than sprawling and high-ceilinged.

The place was empty, merely skin and bones at the moment, filled with boxes and an unused, subtle scent of newness – and as it were, she thought it was perfect; exactly what she'd needed, and wanted – expensive, yes, but more than she'd hoped for, and as she hoisted a large box on the bed and smoothed her hands over it, she silently thanked God that her mother had taken it upon herself to do this, even if she could hear the annoyance in her father's voice whenever she mentioned it.

True to the half-formed idea she'd suggested years ago, Melanie had stored away her alimony checks in an account for Jenny, promising that it would go towards matching a down payment on a place of her own instead of a money-sucking rental. Despite having less saved than she'd hoped for at this time – Natalie was somehow twice as expensive now than she was as an infant or a toddler! – Jenny had sucked it up, put what she needed towards the condo, financed a decent mortgage payment, and gone for it.

Natalie was going to be eight years old in November; she'd started second grade and sharing that room in Melanie's condo just hadn't been working – Jenny and Natalie had both sprawled into the parlor area, and despite Melanie's carefree and go-with-the-flow attitude, Jenny knew the clutter and inelegance bothered her mother, and she didn't blame her.

The time was ripe for this, and Natalie was thrilled.

It was hectic moving at the beginning of a new school year, but that's why she'd waited until October to sign the lease, so she and Natalie could each get used to their new schedules, teachers and professors, and work load – not that Natalie ever had a workload. Jenny swore that child could blink her eyes and have her homework done, and one-hundred percent correct, to boot.

Hectic, yes; but at least she had Kate Todd around to be some sort of angel of mercy when it came to any help she needed – hell, she never even had to ask Kate.

"This is the last box!"

The woman in question strolled into the master bedroom with a small chest of Natalie's keepsakes, placing it gingerly on a bureau. She'd managed to borrow a truck from someone on the base – who, Jenny didn't know – and it had saved hours of back and forth in Jenny's little coup – the beloved used, slightly banged up, but small and reliable car she'd finally had to give in and buy. Hence her having less than she expected to put towards the condo.

Kate sighed, and wiped her brow.

"You know, in Indiana you couldn't really work up a sweat in October," she said dryly.

"I appreciate your help, Kate," Jenny said warmly. "Where's – ?"

"In her room," Kate answered smoothly. "I don't think she realizes it's so small."

"Of course she doesn't," Jenny laughed. "She's going to have it all to herself; it probably seems like a palace!"

"Small or not, it has a window seat," Kate sighed. "I always wanted a window seat."

"I'm sure I'll never get her out of it," Jenny said.

She looked around at all of her things – it had seemed like so much when she was at her mother's, and it was all overflowing out of everywhere, mutating and morphing into something unstoppable. Here, in her own place…it looked like she had nothing, and in a moment of incredulity, she wondered how her life fit into so few boxes and yet was so financially…intimidating.

She'd bought the car used from one of Kate's co-workers; it had cost her just over five thousand. She had school to pay for – loans deferred, but hanging over her – and now this steep mortgage payment – steep because she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible – and other expenses just never stopped – she frequently joked to Kate that she'd have less to pay for if Natalie were dumber.

But she'd never wish idiocy on Natalie; Natalie was a force to be reckoned with.

"MOM!"

She came shrieking into the room and jumped up and down, her soft eyes shining.

"The sun shines right through my window – Mommy, can I put flowers on my window seat and make them grow? Sunflowers and – "

"Why don't we just get settled in first?" Jenny placated gently. "I don't know, Bug – you plant flowers there, and you'll leave that window open and attract bees – "

"And butterflies," Natalie agreed. "Oh my god – MOM, can I make a butterfly garden on the window seat?"

Jenny looked at her dryly.

"You were supposed to grow out of the insect thing, you know," she said.

Natalie put her hands over her ears and grinned sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

"But Mommy, you nicknamed me Bug!" she reminded her, and dashed out of the room, no doubt to figure out where else she could possibly come up with a scheme that would give her mother a heart attack.

" _I_ didn't," Jenny said under her breath.

"How did that come about?" Kate asked, amused.

Jenny paused sheepishly.

"Well – I guess I did," she confessed, backtracking. "When I got my first ultrasound, I thought she looked like an insect in there – I kept calling her gnat, like the bug. So she's named Natalie," Jenny rolled her eyes. "Where's that list we're keeping of why teenagers shouldn't - ?"

"Oh, it's cute," Kate said, waving her hand. "So, Gnat – Natalie – Bug."

"Actually, my best friend in Stillwater called her Bug, and her father picked it up," Jenny said. She shrugged. "It stuck – even her grandparents called her that." Jenny licked her lip. "Her grandmother didn't," she amended.

"Now can I ask where the middle name came from?"

"That actually does go on the list of reasons why teenagers shouldn't have kids." Jenny shook her head, and snorted. "Her father picked it. Winter, because she was born in cold weather."

"But November isn't – "

"I know."

Kate giggled; Natalie came back in, and Jenny gave Kate a quick look, silently telling her not to bring up anymore Stillwater questions. No matter what she talked about with Melanie, or Jasper, or Kate – Jenny did not discuss that particular past with Natalie. She found ways to answer honestly if Natalie asked, but Natalie – if ever – rarely asked.

"Can Kate and I have Chinese food for dinner?" she asked. "I want to read my fortune."

"You should ask Kate what she wants to eat," Jenny said matter-of-factly.

She checked her watch and then pushed her hand through her hair. It was about time for her to leave – on top of moving, she had a Parent-Teacher meeting at Natalie's school. Today was the only day she could do it, and Kate was saving her life there, too – at the last minute, Melanie had been unable to babysit, and Kate had offered.

"Chinese is fine," Kate said, turning to Natalie. "What do you need fortune-told?"

Natalie held up her hands.

"The future, Kate, the future," she said solemnly, sounding wise beyond her years.

"Can't get your destiny from a cookie, Bug," sang Jenny. "You got to make it yourself."

Natalie nodded, and moved over to the bureau, taking her box of keepsakes and leaving the room. With a hand on her hip, Jenny sighed and turned to Kate.

"I do need to go – I don't know what this meeting is about," she said dryly, "but it shouldn't last long. You're a lifesaver – "

"Nah, I just like Nat," Kate said easily. She gestured around at the boxes. "Besides, your move got me a hot date."

"Oh, it did, did it?"

Kate nodded smugly.

"How do you think I got the truck?"

Jenny laughed, and turned, looking for her purse and keys. She pushed her hair back again and gestured at herself; Kate inclined her head to tell her she looked fine, but Jenny still thought about changing first – jeans, a youthful looking top – maybe she should finally start dressing more like a mom?

Every time that thought occurred, she blew it off; not yet – she was only twenty-four.

"Oh," Kate said. She spun around and grabbed her ACU backpack. "I brought you this packet, here," she handed a thick file out quickly, and Jenny took it. "You were looking for an internship? That's not paid, but I know an agent at the Los Angeles office, and they're desperate for computer people – look into it, could pan into a job in the future."

She hesitated.

"But the hours may be demanding, and like I said, not paid," she warned.

Jenny nodded, looking over the file's emblazoned brand:

 ** _NCIS: Student Programs._**

She tucked it away.

"Thanks, Kate," she said again – she was always saying it; _thanks, Kate._

Kate nodded, and Jenny peeked in Natalie's room before she left.

"I'm going to meet your teacher," she warned. "Is there anything I need to know first?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I don't know why he wants to talk to you," she said earnestly. "I only read ahead in the book because it was so interesting!"

Jenny nodded, and reached out to give her a kiss.

"Okay," she said. "Always tell me the truth and I'll always trust you," she added pointedly.

She said her goodbyes, and headed out to the car – she felt bad leaving Kate alone in that bare bones apartment, but she really would only be gone for a short while – and then, of course, she'd have to come back an unpack Natalie's room so Natalie could settle in and go to bed, and she'd have to at least unpack her own bed so she could sleep – and then she had about a hundred pages to read in advanced hacking theories, so essentially -

\- the drive to Daisy Road Elementary was about all the break she got, and in Los Angeles area traffic, it was hardly relaxing.

She parked her car in the deserted lot and tried not to psych herself out as she made her way to the second grade classroom. She knocked firmly on the half-open door and then walked in, standing patiently with her hand on the door.

Mr. Langer looked up and straightened.

"Mrs. Shepard?" he asked. He stood. "Please, take a seat."

She approached, and looked with amusement at the little desks. She pointed, as if to ask – here? He nodded, and she sat down gingerly, trying not to feel too ridiculous. He leaned against his desk.

"It's, ah, M _iss_ ," she corrected, clearing her throat. "And Jenny is fine."

He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Brent Langer, I'm Natalie's teacher this year."

She nodded, shaking his hand.

"Yes; she likes you," Jenny answered.

She said it cautiously, primarily because she was still unsure of why she was here. Natalie did like Mr. Langer, and she seemed to be doing extremely well in school – as usual – so Jenny was at a loss as to why the teacher had specifically asked to see her, and so early in the school year to boot.

He laughed.

"Well, I'm glad," he mused. "The approval of seven-year-olds is about all that matters to elementary teachers. They're a tough crowd."

Jenny smiled pleasantly, and leaned forward.

"If you don't mind me cutting straight to the point – what's this about?" she asked gently. She held out her hands, palms up. "Natalie loves school. I always check that she does her homework – she's not being bullied, is she?"

"No, Mrs – Miss Shepard," he placated, starting to go on.

Jenny swallowed, and gave him a wary look.

"She's not – the bully, is she?"

She asked it with apprehension and dread, but not in a million years did she think he would answer in the affirmative; Natalie, quite literally, would not hurt a fly.

"No," he denied, with a laugh. "Actually, let me go back to the homework," he said swiftly. "You said you check it – have you noticed anything about it lately?"

Jenny pursed her lips, wracking her brains. Nothing came to mind – Natalie did it all with almost no errors, and it was easy for Jenny to see whether or not she was learning correctly.

"I can't say I have," she said finally, arching an eyebrow. "Unless she's doing it all wrong, and I am infinitely more stupid than I thought."

Mr. Langer laughed, and shook his head.

"On the contrary," he said bluntly, "I've been giving Natalie fourth grade homework for the past week."

Jenny blinked at him. Her face expressed no surprise, and so Mr. Langer's eyebrows went up a little, waiting. She had no way of knowing that, because she was used to Natalie receiving work that was a little more challenging, but she wasn't up to speed on what exactly constituted second grade versus fourth grade assignments.

"You don't seem surprised," Langer stated.

Jenny lifted her shoulders.

"She's been doing basic multiplication since last year," she said frankly. "Mr. Langer, she used _nomenclature_ in a sentence when she was six. I'm used to it."

"I'm not even sure I know what nomenclature means," he snorted.

"Yes, you do," Jenny said, rolling her eyes – but flushing appreciatively at the way he seemed so impressed with her daughter.

She clasped her hands together and tilted her head.

"Is she in trouble for being too smart?" she asked pertly.

Mr. Langer smiled.

"I'm afraid she's bored."

"No," Jenny said quickly. "She's not perfect – whatever you've been giving her is challenging her; that's probably why I didn't notice it was more complex."

"My first month of school is entirely devoted to refreshing these kids on what they've learned so far, and testing them to see where they are – they don't know they're tests, but I do," Langer explained. "Natalie sits right there," he pointed to a desk over to the right, directly in the front, "neatly completes the work in record time, and reads quietly until we're done. Are you aware she's reading, and comprehending, _Fahrenheit 451?_ "

"Yes," Jenny answered, unblinking. "It's my old copy. I didn't have time to buy her a new book."

"That book is taught in high school classes."

"Mr. Langer," Jenny laughed. "She gets the book, she knows it's a story, but she's not analyzing censorship versus the spread of harmful ideas or something."

Mr. Langer held up his hands, smiling.

"I know, I know," he said. "There's a difference. But she's very smart. Her reading level is off the charts. I don't want her to get bored by the pace of this class, and lose interest in school. There's a fine line between being very good in school, and beginning to think you're too good for it."

"Are you speaking from experience?" Jenny asked dryly.

He gave her a quiet smile, and shook his head a little. He hesitated, and folded his arms.

"I'd like to know what you think about Natalie moving up to third grade," he ventured.

Jenny frowned a little. She leaned back in her little desk chair and sat considering him silently. He held up his hands.

"It's not a light decision," he told her. "We don't do it without careful thought – teachers or parents. But the guidance counselor agrees, she'd do fine at that level. Maturity is not an issue."

Jenny nodded. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"You want to move her because second grade is too easy."

"Yes – "

"And you've been giving her _fourth_ grade work."

"Ah – well, yes – "

"And she's doing fine with that, but you're not asking me to up her to fifth grade."

Mr. Langer looked at her curiously, taken aback. Jenny reigned herself in a little – she hadn't meant to sound so hostile. She licked her lips and sat forward.

"I just mean," she began, gentler, "third grade isn't going to be that big of leap, of a difference, if you've been putting higher level work than that in her folders anyway. Right?"

He inclined his head.

"I suppose so. Leaping more than one grade is uncommon, but not unheard of. Natalie would pass a fifth grade placement test easily, I'm sure – "

"No, stop," Jenny said quickly. "I'm not – I'm not concerned about her academics, or her keeping up. The way I see it, she's making you uncomfortable because she doesn't need you – I'm not accusing you of being unkind or anything, please hear me out," she explained. "You want to put her somewhere else so she'll have work. That makes sense, to a certain extent. But third grade? You'd just be putting her somewhere else the work was easy, except everyone is a year older. Fourth grade, same thing – except two years. Fifth grade, maybe she's a little challenged, but she's still ahead of the class, except now everyone is starting puberty and talking about boys, and even staying home alone, and she's eight years old."

Mr. Langer considered her intently.

"I think I see where you're going," he said quietly.

Jenny nodded, swallowing hard.

"I am…beyond thrilled that Natalie is so smart and performs well. Believe me – was it Brent?" he nodded. "Believe me, Brent, every single thing she does that's not delinquent or a disaster is a relief – you know, I had her when I was sixteen; everyone expects that child to be a screw up. It's very important to me that she's not."

"Absolutely," Langer said, bemused.

Jenny hesitated.

"The next thing I know, she'd be a twelve year old at high school, thrown into emotional maturity she'd never be ready for, but assuming she is, since we put her there, and I see myself having a fourteen year old who thinks she's smarter than the world and – yeah, this sounds crazy – who ends up pregnant to prove a point or something."

She thought Langer was going to laugh at her for absurdity, but he looked to be listening intently.

She sighed.

"Everyone thinks it's only deadbeats and screw ups who get pregnant in high school," she said, "but smart girls do it, too, and it's because they think they're too mature, or too smart."

"Are _you_ speaking from experience?" he quipped.

She smiled, and licked her lips.

"The difference between a third and second grader's maturity is negligible. But you know she'll keep being ahead academically; it's just her fate. And if we keep pushing her ahead emotionally … no, Mr. Langer, I think it's best that kids stay within their peer group, socially. When she's much older, and fully capable of talking this stuff out with me, I might consider it, or consider community college while she's in," Jenny faltered, suddenly afraid to talk about Natalie grown up, "high school," she finished slowly, "then we'll discuss it. But now…no, I don't think so."

He folded his arms thoughtfully, staring at her.

"That's very insightful," he said finally. "The two other parents, in my career, who I've had this conversation with were so puffed up with pride they jumped at the chance."

Jenny shrugged.

"I don't need my ego inflated at my child's expense."

He arched his brows.

"Natalie can just read if she finishes early. Or you can continue to give her other work," Jenny said firmly. "She's respectful enough – and if she gives you trouble, I'll fix it, you mark my words – to listen to lectures from you patiently even if she's bored."

"I have no doubt of that," he said easily. "I will say – in some cases, we worry what to do with these kids because they can't fit in with peers, either. The smarts make them outcasts. But Natalie is an exception. The other students don't think she's weird. It's as if somehow she knows how to cater to their level. Not as if she's hiding her intelligence; she just doesn't flaunt it."

Jenny beamed.

"I've told her before that if she feels the need to tell people she's smart, she isn't as smart as she thinks she is."

Langer laughed. He rubbed his forehead, and then rubbed his hands together as if dusting them off. He shrugged. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes warm and pensive, and she noticed that he was – actually very young, with a nicely shaped jaw covered in a thin dusting of five o'clock shadow, and deep grey eyes that swirled like smoke. She smiled a little.

"Well, ah, Miss – "

"Jenny."

"Jenny," he repeated. "That's all I – wanted to say. I, uh – oh," he said, stammering. He turned, and grabbed something, bringing it over to her. He sat on the desk next to her, and gestured to the block letters. "Some students from Berkeley were here hyping up science interests with the kids. They handed out these fliers for a summer camp at UCLA," he explained. "I noticed they only gave them to the boys. I took one for Natalie."

He folded his arms.

"She's good at everything, but she asks all of her questions during science."

"Yeah," Jenny said dryly. "She likes bugs."

"And NASA," prompted Langer. "She very much likes NASA."

"Knew we shouldn't have watched Close Encounters," Jenny muttered. She hid her grimace when she saw the price of the camp, and smiled, folding the thing politely. "I'll look into this," she said vaguely – she debated internally whether or not to let Natalie see it; twelve hundred dollars for a child's two week camp was outrageous, and she didn't think she could afford it.

She got up, and shook his hand.

"Thanks for looking out for her, Brent," she said. She hesitated. "I worry about her…all the time," she admitted, a little tired.

She was always afraid for Natalie, afraid she would screw her up, or stunt her development, or just generally do something wrong. Things like this were encouraging, but then, how much of Natalie's smarts and personality were luck of the draw and not attributable to Jenny? She often wondered if she'd be doing so well if Natalie was slower, or wilder.

But she tried not to dwell on that.

She started out, and Brent Langer cleared his throat.

"You know," he said. "It's a shame I'll still be teaching Natalie for the year."

She turned, shocked; he grinned at her, and shrugged a little sheepishly.

"If I'd bumped her up, I might have asked her mother if she'd like to go out to dinner sometime."

Jenny almost took a step back, she was so startled – it was so far from what she was expecting. Being asked out on a date was so utterly foreign to her – she hadn't dated anyone since Gibbs, and they had been together for four years. Since Gibbs, she had focused only on Natalie, and the male attention she got was either from sleazes at the restaurant, or brief interest from other male students who, upon finding out she had a second grader at twenty-four, affected a barely-concealed grimace of rejection.

She licked her lips.

He winced, and held up his hands.

"I'm sorry if that was inappropriate," he said. "It was just – there's this thing called Foot In Mouth Disease, you see – "

She laughed nervously.

"No," she said. "I'm not – bothered."

She hesitated, and she started to wave it off, turn and leave the classroom and chalk it up to amusement.

But here was a young, good-looking man, looking at her like she was a flesh-and-blood woman worthy of interest and conversation rather than just a waitress, just a piece of meat, or both of those things and an unfortunate fuck up, and she hadn't had that in years; just the mere mention of a date reminded her that she was –

She was _lonely_ , sometimes.

She turned boldly and folded her arms.

"Is there a policy against you simply having dinner with a student's parent?" she asked brazenly.

He rubbed his hand through his hair, and grinned at her charmingly.

She clutched her purse tightly, and about a million thoughts exploded in her head – how to date as a single mother, how she felt, if she remembered how to date, if she liked him, if this was stupid – but the low, constant, humming thought was that – this man knew she had a child. He knew Natalie. Natalie knew him.

And he might be the best choice to test those treacherous, single-mother dating waters with.

* * *

In an unprecedented turn of events, it was a Saturday night, and Melanie was home in her pajamas – silk pajamas, naturally – but still; she was casual and in for the night, blithely hanging out with her daughter, and while it wasn't uncommon for Jenny to be home doing nothing special on the weekend, it was wildly out of the ordinary for Melanie.

To top it all off, _Natalie_ was out at a – social _event_.

Jenny sighed, her eyes glued to the film they were watching on Melanie's brand new VHS device. They'd decided to have a girl's night at Melanie's tonight, and the condo was making Jenny feel nostalgic – especially since Natalie was out growing up.

"You think she's okay?" Jenny asked aloud, tapping her teeth with a spoon.

She stabbed it back down in a carton of ice cream and let it sit there. She turned and looked at Melanie.

Melanie smiled indulgently.

"I think she's fabulous."

"She's not too young, right?" Jenny prompted. "She's not too young for a sleepover."

"Jenny, she's almost eight," Melanie laughed. "And I'm the one who thought she should have been allowed to go to that sleepover in kindergarten."

"Okay," Jenny said, holding up her hand. "That mother smelled like patchouli, and that was not cigarette smoke billowing out of her car – and, who wants to have a sleepover for sixteen five-year-olds?" she snorted derisively. "No, there was something wrong there – no way I was letting Bug go to that house."

"Her little friend was so sweet," Melanie said gently.

"That's _precisely_ why I let Tessa come over _here_ to play with Natalie whenever she wanted to."

Melanie shrugged, nodding sagely and pouring some more chocolate sauce over her ice cream. She tasted it thoughtfully, added some more, and tossed her hair back.

"Your father and I used to let you run wild, as long as you were home before the streetlights were out," she said airily. "No worries."

"We lived on military bases!"

"My parents did the same," Melanie said with a shrug.

"Next you'll be telling me she doesn't need a helmet to ride her bike."

"I never wore a helmet," Melanie said dramatically.

Jenny laughed and chucked a pillow at her gently.

"And look how you turned out."

"Ooh, you want to go there, little girl?" Melanie retorted dramatically, pointing at Jenny with her spoon and squinting up one eye, sizing her up like a sniper. "I was a nice, respectable, married twenty-four year old when I had _my_ baby."

Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted, biting her lip in a grin. She pretended to cold-shoulder her mom and turned back to the movie – it was something they'd rented from Blockbuster, something that Melanie insisted Jenny see because Melanie had represented one of the lower-level actors in it in some sort of contract renegotiation. She kept forgetting to point him out when he was on screen, and the film was boring Jenny.

"You think she misses me?" Jenny ventured.

"No," snorted Melanie.

Jenny glared at her, and Melanie laughed.

"Oh, darling, relax!" she soothed. "Enjoy this – you rarely have nights without that child!"

"I like that child," Jenny retorted. "And I – I have plenty!" she added.

It was truer now than it had been in years past. With more social connections, and thus more people who could possibly watch Natalie, Jenny had some time to hang out with a friend or two from college, or go out on a date or two - -but in between school, her furious work schedule, and Natalie's activities, she still felt like sitting around on a Saturday, without Natalie, was a surreal and absurd thing to be doing.

The only reason she wasn't at work was because there had been a server desperate to make her rent, and since Jenny wasn't in dire need of tips at the moment, she'd switched her shift with the girl. Other than that – Jenny was working her fingers to the bone, lately, in a secret, desperate attempt to be able to send Natalie to this Berkeley summer camp.

And – she was hoping she'd end up getting this NCIS internship Kate had turned her on to, but if it was time-consuming and unpaid, she wouldn't be able to take it. So on the off chance she did get it, she wanted to maybe have enough money to make time for the internship, cut down on hours at work, and rely on her seamstress skills to support them for a while.

Maybe things would come together like that; maybe they wouldn't. The biggest priorities were necessities; after that, Jenny resolved to put Natalie first, so then followed science camp. If she worked hard, she might do something for herself – but usually not.

College was for herself, technically; but it was also to ensure she was never unqualified to work, and thus unable to provide for Natalie. That was certainly why she'd chosen such an unexpected major – because she knew, in this day and age, 'computer stuff' as her mother called it would never be out of demand.

"So," Melanie began lightly. "Where's Mr. Langer tonight?"

Jenny cleared her throat loudly and turned and looked at her mother pointedly.

"Where's Captain Danes?" she retorted nosily.

Melanie arched an eyebrow.

"Max is overseas for a week or two," she said sleekly.

She gave Jenny a look; trying to throw Melanie off gossip was impossible. She was open about her personal life, and she didn't mind telling others about it, so she refused to be intimidated by Jenny's pretense of privacy.

"Have you told Dad you're dating someone?" Jenny demanded loftily.

"Have you told your father _you're_ dating someone?"

Jenny laughed once, loudly, and sarcastically. The day she had that conversation with Jasper was the day it became entirely too serious and too complicated; her father would have his own set of rigid advice for how exactly this should go.

" _Dating_ is a strong word."

"It's the right word, Jennifer," Melanie sighed good-naturedly. "I don't know why you're so squeamish about this."

"Well, let's see," Jenny began dryly, scooping up a large amount of ice cream. "If I were dating Brent, he would be the second man I have dated, ever, yet I'm twenty-four years old and my child is almost eight, as you've just recently pointed out – and _by the way_ he's her second grade teacher, and oh, one more thing – I have no coherent or resolved relationship with Natalie's actual father."

Jenny popped the spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and glared pointedly at Melanie, waiting for a response expectantly. Melanie just shrugged, and turned her eyes to the TV with a slight smirk, swirling her spoon around in her chocolaty sundae.

"So," Melanie said smugly. "Where is Mr. Langer tonight?"

Jenny groaned, but smiled a little, defeated. She sighed, and swallowed her ice cream, spooning up a little bit more.

"He's on duty," she said simply.

Because when he wasn't teaching second grade, Brent Langer was a volunteer fireman, as if devoting his life to the education of small children wasn't gallant enough.

Melanie laughed.

"You have a fetish for people who save people."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Marines, firefighters…" Melanie trailed off.

Jenny shifted uncomfortably, looking away. She checked the time, and then watched the movie for a moment; then she sighed.

"Gibbs wasn't a Marine when I met him, Mom," she said after a moment. "Did you forget that had something to do with me leaving him?"

"I don't think you ever quite understood why you left him," Melanie said frankly, "but men who become Marines don't do it spontaneously. He had that in him. You know it. Just like your father did."

Jenny scowled a little, knitting her brows. She didn't want to think she had a type, but maybe she did – how could two people determine that, anyway? And furthermore, she didn't want to think she went for men who had similar qualities to her father – although that did seem to be the norm for women.

"Has Natalie met him yet?"

Jenny gave her a look.

"She sits in front of him eight hours a day, five days a week," she said dryly.

"I mean has she _met_ him," Melanie said, arching her brow. "In a social setting, has he gone to the beach with you, on one of your roller-blading outings – "

"No, no," Jenny murmured swiftly. "No, this is happening very slowly – "

"Glacial."

"Slowly," Jenny repeated firmly.

She'd accepted a small dinner invitation with Natalie's second-grade teacher, which had taken place about a week after the parent-teacher conference. It had gone well, and the two of them had – cautiously agreed to try it again, and as it stood, they kept cautiously agreeing to do it again and again – dinner, coffee, movies, et cetera.

"He's her _teacher_ , Mom, what do you expect?" Jenny said tensely. "I mean, thank God it's second grade and not like – middle school, that would be mortifying for her; at this age, I don't think she'd really think about it _too_ much."

"But…?"

"I also don't want any upturned noses or sideways glances from other parents or administrators," Jenny said firmly. She set aside her ice cream, suddenly not up for the sweet chill anymore. She folded her arms across her chest and settled back into the couch. "It's just a precarious situation," she admitted.

"Natalie hasn't been through a divorce," Melanie pointed out simply. "She's not hostile to other men in your life – she doesn't really – well, it's not like if your father started dating someone the year he took you to Stillwater," she said frankly.

"That's the problem," Jenny muttered bitterly. She almost left it there, but she'd had recent conversations with Kate about this, and it had been bothering her to admit it to herself, so she figured she'd might as well say it out loud: "I'm afraid…I'm _concerned_ ," she amended, "that if I have a conversation with her about dating Brent, it will bring up questions about Jethro."

"Ah," Melanie said. She sounded smug, and Jenny made a face at her. Melanie leaned forward. "You were always so adamant that you had no hard feelings towards Gibbs, that you wouldn't mind him seeing her, or talking about him – "

"Talk and practice are very different," Jenny interrupted edgily. She chewed on her bottom lip. "I know I have not been the most touchy-feely person to him, and I've been gun-shy and nervous about this, but since Desert Storm he hasn't contacted us at all – no phone calls, no packages, nothing," she said tiredly. "I wouldn't even have known he came home if I hadn't finally asked Jackson, and our unspoken rule is that Jackson talks to Natalie and we don't talk about Gibbs."

Last year, when it had been an inordinate amount of time after Gibbs should have returned from Kuwait and Jenny had heard nothing; she'd finally asked Jackson Gibbs – who had told her, stiffly, that Jethro had been badly wounded in Kuwait, but he'd come home the recipient of a Silver Star. The only reason Jackson had known was because the letter of commendation came to Gibbs' last permanent address – in Stillwater.

She didn't even know what had happened – if he'd lost a limb, or his mind, or what sort of injury had incapacitated him. She didn't know where he was now, and neither, she assumed, did his father.

"I don't know what happened," Jenny mused quietly, "because Jethro…loves Natalie very much, you know, whenever I doubt it, I just remember how good he was, seventeen, eighteen, all those eyes on him, and he'd carry her around Stillwater with his head held high, daring anyone to stare…" she trailed off.

She shrugged heavily, and pushed her hair back.

"I can't talk about this stuff with Natalie," she said in a small voice. "She's too young for me to pour my soul out, and I don't know what to tell her if she asks anything sticky, and I'm not so worried about talking to her about Mommy dating as I am worried that the conversation will go directly to 'where do babies come from and where is my daddy.'"

Melanie looked at her steadily.

"Darling, do you think you'll get away with never answering those questions?" she asked simply.

Jenny felt like snapping at her; that really pushed a button – of course she didn't think that, but it was something she very warily dreaded, and she didn't like Melanie pointing it out. Before she could say anything though, Melanie gave her a sly look.

"I'd think you'd want to do it when she's younger, and less likely to ask complex questions – or rebel, and go looking for him or – dye her hair blue – or – "

"Get pregnant?" Jenny supplied coolly.

Melanie shrugged airily.

"She still thinks you can do no wrong now; thinks you're her world and her Wonder Woman," Melanie remarked. "Like I said, you'd rather it come up now."

Jenny looked at her a moment, her pulse racing. She compressed her lips, and tilted her head.

"That's devious," she decided softly, feeling a little taken aback.

She didn't want to _brainwash_ Natalie; she just didn't want to talk about Gibbs. He was such a sore subject; maybe because she'd never really gotten over him – because she hadn't left him because she didn't love him; she'd just left him because – she was young, and there was so much left to figure out, then.

Jenny frowned, and got up, taking her ice cream to put it up. She took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and uncorked it, grabbing two glasses. She silently reflected as she poured, and then brought them back over, handing one to her mother.

Melanie took it, inclining her head in thanks. Jenny resumed her seat, and inhaled the heady scent of the wine – she needed a glass; deserved it. Melanie was silent for a moment, and then she looked over, smiling brightly.

"Ah, but on a slightly related, and yet different, note," she drawled carefully. "You like him, don't you? Brent."

Jenny pressed her wine glass to her lips, and tried to withhold a smile; she couldn't, she swallowed the dry red thoughtfully, and lowered her glass, swirling it elegantly before shrugging a little.

"Yeah," she allowed huskily. "I like him."

She _did_ like Brent Langer – and that was a good thing; she liked liking him, but she also liked feeling it out, and taking it impossibly slow. She didn't want to disrupt Natalie's life, and she didn't want to get herself into something she couldn't deal with, so for now, she was content to just keep agreeing to 'do this again sometime.'

* * *

"Jenny, do you want any of this eggnog?"

Jenny made a face and shook her head, declining as her mother took the pitcher out of the refrigerator. She pushed her hand through her hair and kept her eyes on Natalie.

"Um," Natalie was saying, holding the phone delicately to her ear. "I got a book on butterflies, and a book on space. About space travel!"

She paused, pacing around the room and looking at her presents.

"It's called _Contact_ ," she said. She paused, and then she said matter-of-factly: "Well, Grandpa Jack, I'm going to be an astronaut."

Jenny laughed, and leaned forward, taking her coffee in hand and holding it to her lips. It was early on Christmas morning, and Natalie was having her usual holiday call with Jackson Gibbs. Jenny always wondered what he thought of her, as Natalie was so very much not the type of girl you raised around Stillwater. But then – Jenny hadn't been, either, and no doubt Jackson had occasionally thought Jenny poisoned Gibbs' good sense.

"Mm-hm," Natalie murmured. "Mm-hm – no, no pets." Her blue eyes found Jenny's accusingly. "I want a bird or a dog, but Mommy says no."

Jenny rolled her eyes good-naturedly – they lived in apartment, there were all kinds of extra fees for pets! Besides, the only thing Jenny was interested in was a dog, and she didn't think this small space would be fair to the animal.

Melanie came around the couch and sat down, handing something over to Jenny.

"Here, some mail came for you at my place," she said blithely. "Mostly just magazines, but there's a letter, too."

Jenny took them and laid them in her lap, glancing at them with mild interest.

"You seeing Brent today?" Melanie asked.

"Ah, no," Jenny said carefully. "He's in Oregon, with his parents."

She wouldn't have been seeing him anyway. Things were progressing well, but not well enough for him to be part of her and Natalie's family Christmas – and this was their first in their own little place. It was special, and protected. At least now, Natalie knew that Brent and Jenny 'hung out' because they were 'very good friends.'

Melanie nodded. She gave Jenny a smug look and preened a little.

"The Captain is taking me up in the plane today. We're having a wine picnic at the Hollywood sign."

Jenny gave her a look.

"I never believe your life is real," she sighed dramatically.

"I'm going to convince him to fly me to Hawaii," Melanie said dramatically.

"Not in that little novelty plane, Mom," Jenny warned nervously.

Melanie's boyfriend – her serious one, as it were – was an Air Force officer who flew at work and flew for pleasure. This guy seemed to be sticking; Jenny had met him, and she liked him; he reminded her eerily of her father, except since Jenny wasn't his flesh-and-blood, he didn't particularly care that she was an unwed disgrace.

"I got an A in spelling because I can spell _onomatopoeia,"_ Natalie said. "So, I get to go to the county spelling bee, and then maybe the regional, and then maybe state. Grandpa Jack, you know what? If I win, I might get to go to Science camp!"

Jenny smiled, biting the inside of her lip. She was nervous about this spelling bee drama – she was pleased Natalie was winning, naturally, but she was afraid Natalie was putting too much pressure on herself because she thought the only way she was going to Science camp was if she won 'extra money' for Mommy.

Jenny had already decided she was going to go no matter what; Jenny would just either borrow the money from Melanie and pay her back, or she'd scrap the idea of buying herself a home computer for easier school work and make sure Natalie got her supplemental work instead.

Jenny looked down at her lap and lazily flicked through things, expressing no particular interest in the mail until her thumb flipped a neat white envelope up from the mass of junk. She frowned and pulled it out, her eyes scanning it quickly. It was addressed to both her and Natalie, their names in neat cursive on the front.

Her eyes darted quickly to the return address. Kaneohe Station – Hawaii. Sharply, she looked up at Melanie; had the reference to Hawaii been a subconscious clue, or a slip.

"Mom," she said in a quiet voice, turning her head from Natalie. "Did – did Jethro call the house?"

Melanie blinked, sipping on eggnog calmly.

"Mine? No," she said simply, shrugging.

Jenny's brow furrowed. She sat forward and started to slide her thumb under the closure of the envelope, and as she did, Natalie came forward, stopping in front of her.

"Mm-hm. Yes, Grandpa Jack. Yes, I promise – I love you, too. Okay, okay – but President's Day is a holiday," she giggled. "You can call me then." She handed the phone to Jenny and twirled over to Melanie.

"Melly, can you fix my bow? It got caught on the Christmas tree!"

Jenny took the phone and held it to her ear.

"He misses me," Natalie said conversationally to Melanie. She pursed her lips. "That is very sweet, since I've never met him."

Jenny turned.

"Yes, you have," she corrected. "Think back hard, Bug," she encouraged dutifully – she never aided Natalie in forgetting people if she could help it. She turned to the phone. "Jackson?"

"Hey there, Missy," he said in his gruff voice. "Merry Christmas."

"You too, Jackson," she said.

"Appreciate her callin'," he said. "I'd rung that number of your mother's, and didn't get no one."

"Ah, right," Jenny said. "Natalie and I moved – let me get you the number," she said, waiting for him to tell her he was ready.

He took down the number, and then cleared his throat.

"Well, I reckon I'll get my package back then – "

"No, Mom still lives there, she'll send it on over," Jenny soothed, suddenly looking at the letter in her hand and up to her mother.

Melanie was busy fussing with Natalie's curls. She frowned a moment, but didn't say anything.

"How's the store?" Jenny asked politely.

"Business as usual. Guess who had a baby?"

Jenny swallowed.

"Who?"

"Betsy Carmichael. She up and ran off with some boy from New York who broke down at our gas station. Came back with a baby, married Chuck."

Jenny, surprisingly, took no pleasure from that – a sign of maturity, she figured. She sighed.

"Poor Betsy," she murmured, wondering what life as Chuck's wife would be.

"Yeah, Chuck's runnin' the mines, now," Jackson said.

"Running them, never getting his hands dirty," Jenny said, with some slight bitterness. She flashed back to the late eighties, when Gibbs had always been sooty and dirty, tired and sore from busting his ass, and still willing to carry Natalie on his shoulders down to get a scoop of ice cream.

Her eyes stung.

"Hey, Jackson," she said steadily, her voice controlled. "I've got to get going – traditional beach time," she said.

Ever since the first year, when she'd told Natalie California was the kind of place you could do Christmas on the beach, they'd always gone. They made sand angels and sandmen and chased each other in the freezing water.

"Send me some pictures of that spelling bee? I bet she'll win," he said gruffly. He hesitated. "Ann woulda been so proud of that child."

"Thanks for saying that, Jack," Jenny said softly.

"S'true," Jackson grunted.

Jenny ran her thumb along the open envelope in her lap, coaxing the card out a little. It was a brightly colored Christmas greeting, and before she hung up, she steeled herself and took a deep breath.

"Is, um – ah," she broke off. "Do you know where he is?" she asked finally, defeated.

"Leroy?" Jackson was quiet for a long pause. "Haven't heard from 'im. But I got a Christmas card from Hawaii."

Jenny didn't say anything else.

"Goodbye, Jackson," she said finally.

He said his gruff goodbye, and she hung up, taking out the card. She eyed the picture for a moment – Snoopy and Woodstock, engaging in some festive antics, and then she opened it, her eyes scanning over the generic greeting, and the handwriting –

 _Thinking of you, and always wishing you well. Love_ _Daddy_ _– Jethro._

'Daddy' was crossed out, as if there was uncertainty, and the handwriting swooped and swirled, neat and confident; nothing like Jenny had ever seen Gibbs write in his entire life. She checked the return address again, and then stared at the message. She wondered if Jackson's card had the same writing.

Something heavy in her stomach turned over, and she folded the card, staring at the front hollowly.

He must have gotten married. And whoever she was must be unsure if she could sign the card 'Daddy' or not.

"What's that?" Natalie asked.

Jenny jumped; she was suddenly standing right in front of her, curious eyes wide. She grinned.

"Look, its Snoopy!"

Jenny nodded. She turned.

"Mom," she asked. "Have you – been getting other stuff? Packages, calls from him?"

Melanie shook her head.

"No, darling," she apologized quietly. "I wouldn't keep them from you."

The flare of hope died; she had realized Gibbs didn't know they'd moved. Her wariness about the absence of gifts and phone calls had faded for a moment; maybe she'd just been forgetting to check if they went to Melanie's!

She placed the card neatly in her lap; no, something had happened – something else was going on in Gibbs' life.

"Who is this from?" Natalie took it. She looked at it, and then pursed her lips. "Oh, Daddy," she said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Oh, it's scratched out." She looked up, brow furrowed. "Do I call him Jethro now?"

Jenny snatched the card with more force than she meant to. She folded it in with the junk mail and got up.

"Don't worry about him, Bug," she said tensely. "Are you ready for the beach?" She sounded terse, and she knew it.

She shuffled her things together, trying to ignore the hurt look she got from her daughter. She sighed and put the things aside. She rubbed her forehead.

"Wait, Nat, you need to call Grandpa."

"But I did!"

"My Daddy," Jenny reminded her. "Grandpa Ghost."

For a year or so, Natalie had confused Jasper with _Casper_ and referred to Jenny's father by the friendly ghosts' name. Jokingly, Jenny differentiated between the two grandpas by calling her own father Grandpa Ghost.

Natalie crawled up on the couch and reached for the phone; she talked to Jasper more often, she knew his number by heart. She held the phone to her ear, letting it ring, and she looked at Jenny thoughtfully.

"I wonder what Daddy is doing," she mused innocently. "I should send him a picture. I should draw him a _gecko_."

She said it with such a blasé attitude; with such carefree nonchalance. Jenny started to answer, but Jasper must have picked up the phone.

"BOO!" Natalie shrieked into the receiver. "It's me, Grandpa, I'm a ghost!" She burst into laughter, and Jenny leaned back, momentarily catching Melanie's eye over her little head. She frowned; no, she didn't want to talk about it – no, she didn't want to investigate or press anyone for information.

Natalie chattered to Jasper, her fingers tangled up in the chain around her neck. Jenny rolled her eyes and lightly swatted at the dog tags, uttering the customary order for Natalie to get them out of her mouth. She knew she said it with more animosity than usual this time, but she couldn't help it.

She compressed her lips, and closed her eyes, leaning back while she patiently waited for Natalie to get her fill of conversation. She wanted to be on the beach, playing, away from thinking about this – whatever it was, whatever it meant. She wished Brent would come home – Brent would distract her; she and Brent had plans for New Year's Eve – she'd agreed to it only if it was early, so she could be home to watch the New York City ball drop with Natalie.

* * *

The Los Angeles NCIS subordinate office was an interesting place; it looked somewhat like a federal agency had rented out some office space and then tried to make it look – homey, or welcoming, or something. It was in fact closer to Kate's Seal Beach Naval station than to Jenny's apartment, or to Cal State Long Beach, but the drive out wasn't too bad – and this was her second drive out; not for an interview, but for confirmation.

The Agent she'd been working with sat back down at his desk, a stack of papers in his hands.

"You're our primary," he was saying gruffly. "Meaning, we'll also be vetting two alternates, but if you check out, you'll be cleared and your spot is guaranteed," he explained.

He tapped his hand on the file.

"It's a hell of a lot of paperwork but ma'am, this is the government," he said dryly.

Jenny nodded, tensely tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I understand," she said swiftly. "And – I'll work under you?"

"Tangentially, with my team," he answered, peering at her with a sort of calculating look. "This endeavor is new to me," he said, rolling his eyes slightly. "Computers," he muttered, as if he was skeptical of the whole thing. "Headquarters is starting up Cyber departments all over, and it turns out most of the people who know computers are," he gestured to her, "interns."

Jenny beamed, relieved.

"So," he said, going on. "We'll start to process you clearance, and we'll give you some preliminary training dates. First, though, I'll go over the basics with you – you're a junior?"

"Yes," Jenny answered. "I'll be a senior when term ends in May."

"Good," he muttered, glancing over her file. "I don't understand these requirements," he muttered, looking over the internship announcement and requirements. "I'm sure you do, that's the problem these days," he muttered the names of some computer programs skeptically, and then looked up. "You're a non-traditional student?"

"I'm full time," Jenny said. "But I started when I was twenty-two, so I'm older than most – I also have a full time job –"

"Waitressing," he noted, nodding at her resume.

"Yes, sir – but my performance academically makes up for my lack of practical experience so far – "

"Don't worry about selling yourself, Miss Shepard, you're a female and you know computers, we need you," he said dryly. "If we keep going the current direction of quotas and political correctness, you'll be running NCIS by the millennium."

Jenny wasn't sure whether to be offended or not – she wanted this position, but she didn't necessarily like the implication that she got it to satisfy a demographic; she knew she was qualified and would perform well, and Kate had implied it might turn into a job – getting a foot in the door was important.

She settled for polite silence, and the agent cleared his throat.

"Since the department is new, you'll actually benefit more," he said, meeting her eyes. "Usually interns do grunt work – get agents coffee, transcribe interviews and interrogations, run down credit reports," he listed. "Considering who is in charge of the new Cyber program, you'll probably be working fairly importantly with us – without a paycheck, unfortunately."

Jenny spread her hands out.

"I came in well aware of that," she said. "The experience is valuable, and I've been financially planning for this possibility."

He nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it – until we clear you, as I mentioned, you'll be in classes instructing you on procedure. Those are generally done during the employees' workday, so I'll furnish you with a list so you can pick which times fit with your schedule."

Jenny nodded; she took the list she was handed.

"We generally expect interns to be full-time during the summer," he paused, and peered at her thoughtfully, "do you have a conflict with that?"

Jenny swallowed, hesitating. If she did that, she'd still need to work a few nights a week just to make sure she had at least an emergency income; her saved funds were for car payments, insurance, the condo payment, and Natalie – but then, she could just take out a loan if she needed to; doing all this was to be financially secure in the future, anyway.

The only problem was, did she really want to leave Natalie alone for eight hours a day all week? It wouldn't be such a problem when camp started, and she planned on getting her into some recreational sports, but childcare –

"You can discuss the hours with Hetty, anyway," the Agent said. "She's – unorthodox, and as I keep telling you, it's a new department. Who knows what she'll want you to do."

He handed her a thick file next.

"This is your security clearance paperwork. You need to fill it out truthfully and completely, down to the letter. An investigation will be done to determine if you're eligible, and when it's finished, you'll begin duty."

Jenny opened the file and started flipping through it, a little daunted. She glanced at all the information needed, looked up, and furrowed her brow.

"How extensive is this?"

"For you? You're young; it will cover basically your whole life. Nothing juvenile, but back to sixteen."

Jenny chewed on the inside over her lip. She grit her teeth, and then sighed, resigned.

"I don't have contact with my daughter's father," she admitted. "I wouldn't know how to list him – "

"Are you married to him?"

Jenny blinked.

"No, of course not," she answered – she thought it was an absurd question; if they were married, why would she have no idea where he was?

"If you aren't married, and you don't live with him, he's not even an individual you list," the Agent said matter-of-factly.

"What are the chances he's contacted?"

The Agent looked somewhat amused.

"Is he some sort of criminal, Miss Shepard?"

She laughed.

"The opposite," she said. "He's a Marine. But contacting him might stir up unhappy memories, so – "

"Well, as I said, he probably won't be contacted unless the investigation turns up information that indicates we need to speak with him – would anyone suggest you could be blackmailed by him over your child, something like that?"

Jenny looked appalled.

"No, I - ," she paused. "God, I don't think so." She stared at the agent for a moment, and then shook her head. "No, I'd never sell secrets over that," she said firmly.

She may not have contact with Gibbs, but it wouldn't end her world if he sued for rights to Natalie or something. It would be strange and possibly devastating, but she wouldn't call the Russians about it.

"How old is she? Your daughter."

"Eight."

The Agent seemed to do a double take, and Jenny smirked a little – she was so infinitely used to it these days.

"Ah," he said. "And he last saw her…?"

Jenny winced.

"She was…four. I don't know, maybe five. Maybe three."

The Agent just stared at her a moment, and she flushed, sorry she'd brought it up. But if someone was going to go ambush Jethro about her, she'd need to be prepared to deal with the possible backlash or fallout. She cleared her throat and gave him a please-change-the-subject look, and he handed her some more forms.

"That's for your temporary ID card," he told her. He shuffled around, and then handed her something else. "This is a waiver – in case an Agent takes you out with him or her and you're injured or," he paused, and then coughed, and went on, "injured or, er, killed," he finally said bluntly.

She didn't react much, and he seemed relieved. He pointed to some parts.

"It acknowledges that you will be in the vicinity of firearms, possibly defense and offensive driving, et cetera," he went on, handing her something else, "and this is a non-disclosure act; self-explanatory."

Jenny neatly placed them all together in the bag she'd brought, and clasped her hands in her lap, her back straight. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the phone on his desk.

"I'll call Hetty to give you a tour – Hetty will be your point of contact, your supervisor," he said. He paused. "Did you allot time for a tour? I didn't realize you had a child."

She nodded – because she had carefully not mentioned Natalie in the interview, in case they came up with some false conception of her inability to work the same as everyone else due to motherhood. Now, she was able to nod her head firmly.

"Yes, I put the whole day aside for this," she said eagerly – Natalie was at school, of course, but this meeting hadn't started until two; in a very unprecedented first-time event, Natalie was going to stay after with Mr. Langer, and if Jenny was later than four, Kate was going to take her once she was off duty.

The nervousness of beginning the administrative process for her internship at NCIS was absolutely nothing compared to how nervous she was about leaving Natalie with Mr. Langer – particularly since Natalie had caught Jenny kissing _Mr. Langer_ recently.

The conversation that followed had Jenny actually confessing that she was 'seeing' the man, yes, just like Melly was 'seeing' Captain Danes – but no, Mommy was _not_ letting Mr. Langer have sleepovers in his underwear, like Melly did Captain Danes. Jenny was specifically annoyed by that question, because it was how she found out that Melanie had Max Danes sleep over even when she watched Natalie.

Jenny blinked, trying not to get too lost in her thoughts – but she did wonder what kind of questions Natalie was posing to Brent, though she seemed unfazed about the teacher dating thing.

The Agent was hanging up his phone call.

"Here's the good thing," the Agent said. "Usually, our internships do not in any way guarantee jobs or even increase your chances – but with this Cyber stuff becoming massive, and federal agencies needing to stay ahead of the game, NCIS isn't likely to risk letting talented people go and end up at the FBI or some rag-tag agency like that."

Jenny laughed a little at the jab – who the hell else would call the FBI _rag-tag_?

"We'll most likely contract you for the summer, and then see about taking you on for some kind of trail period post-Graduation. Although – coming on at NCIS requires a general willingness to relocate, but we can get to that if it ever becomes serious."

Jenny tried not to express too much eagerness, but the idea of perhaps graduating with a job – and a decent, good job, at that – was almost too much. It would mean being able to breathe a little instead of panicking as she rushed to take the first IBM or Microsoft offer that game along, just to be able to keep up with bills.

"Any questions?"

"No, Sir, you've given me more than enough to keep me busy," Jenny said, shaking the files a little.

"You're welcome to fill all that out here today, since you blocked the time out. That way there's no need to make a second trip."

Jenny nodded her head in thanks, and a knock at the door drew both of their attentions. She turned, and the Agent stood up.

"Hetty," he greeted pleasantly.

"Special Agent McLane," a woman's voice greeted wryly. "I hope you haven't filled this young lady's head with your negativity concerning computers and women."

Her tone was teasing, and Jenny smiled. She was a short woman, with neatly done hair and large, almost distracting glasses, and yet there was something about the sharp light in her eye that suggested she was formidable, and extremely respected.

"Now, Hetty, you know I don't mind women," Agent McLane muttered sheepishly. "The computers, though – "

"We'll see that they're run by women," Hetty snorted. "The fairer sex is much more adaptable to change – wouldn't you say, Miss Shepard?"

Jenny was glad this woman knew her name, and she smiled, reaching out to shake her hand.

"I'm no stranger to it," she allowed bravely.

"Jennifer Shepard, this is the head of our special projects division, Henrietta Lange," Agent McLane said gruffly. "She has an uncanny knack for being smarter than all of us. Hetty, Jennifer Shepard."

"Berkeley, is that right?" Hetty.

"California State, Long Beach," Jenny corrected with a shrug. "My daughter's a Berkeley girl, though, for now," she added smugly.

"Good heavens dear, you certainly can't have a college age daughter," Hetty said, eyes as wide as an owl's.

Jenny shook her head.

"Second grade advanced science camp," she said proudly. "She can tell you the Latin name of just about anything."

Hetty smiled, and beckoned warmly.

"I should like to hear more about that – come, Miss Shepard, come, I'll give you the grand tour of where we'll have you this summer."

Agent McLane waved as she let Hetty take her out into the hall. The smaller woman looked up with curious eyes, and gave her a sly wink.

"I have a feeling we've made a very good decision with you," she said matter-of-factly. "My feelings are well-respected around here."

Jenny felt relieved that someone thought so; she wasn't used to many people thinking she was such a delightful investment. Even if they liked her or thought her smart, when they found out Natalie and calculated her age, there was always an edge of – _condescension_ there somewhere.

"Are there any of those training dates that pose a conflict with your classes?" Hetty asked, leading her past a breakroom.

"No," jenny said, summoning her courage. "But – well, one of them I'll need to miss; my daughter is in the state spelling bee, and I can't miss it."

"No, you can't," Hetty said firmly. "You'll be there." She was thoughtful for a moment. "And I suppose we'll need to work out some sort of adjusted work schedule for you – you can't be paying for childcare full time if we're not paying for you," she laughed.

Jenny looked at her, and smiled, feeling as if a certain weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She looked down at the files in her hands and grinned, biting her lip to try and disguise her excitement _just_ a little. This had gone from something Kate had half-mentioned to a reality, and a promising one at that – and she couldn't wait to get back and tell Natalie all about it.

* * *

The University of California, Berkeley's Science Camp set up was so grand and impressive that Jenny was at least content with having to borrow money from her mother for the house payment this month. From day one, Natalie had enjoyed every waking second of the program, and these last few days, she had enjoyed ever sleeping moment as well – the last three nights were sleepaway camp, and one of them had consisted of camping on campus, which Jenny was sure Natalie had loved.

She'd been worried, but at the final presentation of the students' science fair projects, Natalie had assured her that she hadn't been scared at all, and it had been so much fun! Even if she was only one of three girls at the camp, and they had to make friends with all the smelly boys.

"Her project was impressive," Brent remarked, taking a seat next to Jenny in the second row of the auditorium – the program was closing, and it was time for the presentation of the Science Fair awards, among other special recognition.

Jenny glowed with pride.

"Wasn't it cool? And most mothers don't want their kids playing with fire," she said smugly.

He put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him casually. She rested her bag on the seat next to her for Kate.

"You think she'll win?" Jenny asked, eyes on the empty stage.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Brent answered.

Jenny sighed, preening.

"When I first moved here, I picked up these brochures from Stanford and Berkeley and Irvine just to torture myself, I guess, show myself what could have been – and now she's eight and she's already here. Where's she going to be in ten years?"

"Harvard?" tried Brent seriously.

"Oxford," Jenny supplied, laughing.

"MIT!"

Jenny turned to find Kate moving her bag, and taking her seat. She shrugged, and grinned.

"She could be an engineer."

Jenny leaned over and gave her a hug. Kate beamed and squeezed her shoulders, glancing at Brent and giving him a wave.

"I'm glad you could come," Jenny said earnestly.

"Yeah, no problem," Kate said. "Anything for the first female head of NASA," she said matter-of-factly. She glanced at Brent again, and then leaned in and lowered her voice. "So, how did it go?" she asked subtly.

Jenny flushed slightly, giving her a look – with Natalie gone the last few nights, she'd taken the opportunity to stay at Brent's place for the first time – despite how long they'd been seeing each other. Granted, now it was more open, since Natalie was out of his class and they were more comfortable with each other – but it had still been a big step.

She arched one eyebrow at Kate and nodded, smirking a little.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Yes."

Kate pinched her ribs and smirked, pointedly not looking at Brent this time. She turned to the front with practiced nonchalance, and Jenny relaxed back into her seat, feeling the press of Brent's arm against the back of her shoulders.

She'd originally intended to only stay one night at his place, if it seemed natural, but she'd ended up staying all three, leaving this morning to get ready for Natalie's event. That probably hadn't been the best idea, considering now she had no idea when it would happen again, and after roughly seven years of no sex, she'd been vividly and shockingly reminded of what she was missing – with a man who was _not_ an inexperienced teenager, at that.

The peculiar thing was, she'd spent nearly an hour in bed this morning wondering what it would be like to sleep with Jethro, now that they were both older – and she assumed he'd had a few more women, since she was so convinced he'd gotten married. She'd tried to shake those thoughts, though; it wouldn't do to be thinking of an old flame when the current one was making her _huevos rancheros._

"Hey," Brent said, rubbing her shoulder. "I was thinking of taking Natalie to that place on the boardwalk after this, as a reward," he suggested. "My treat."

She hesitated – Natalie didn't often spend time with them together, though at this point she was fully aware, as far as her understanding could go, that Mommy was _seeing_ Mr. Langer, and it was okay to say he was her _boyfriend_. But she shrugged her shoulders, and smiled; if she was going to be intimate with this man, it had to mean she trusted him with both the emotional and physical safety of her child – at least, that's the pact she'd made with herself a few months ago when the question of sex came up between them.

She wasn't sleeping with _anyone_ who wasn't worthy of being around Natalie.

"She'd _love_ that," Jenny said.

Kate elbowed her hard, and pointed; the camp class was filing out to take their seats. As one of the only girls, Natalie was easily spotted, and she still had a smudge of soot on her eyebrow from the demonstration of her project. Jenny waved at her, and she giggled, her tongue caught between her teeth.

The ceremony started with a short speech by some very important head of department who had mentored the students, and then the awards began – after a short 'everyone-is-wonderful' speech by the program director. Then it was three honorable mentions, a most unique, third place, and –

"Second place, Miss Natalie Winter Gibbs!"

Natalie hopped up to run and mount the stage, and Jenny, caught off guard for the merest of seconds, almost forgot to start clapping, until Kate elbowed her hard again.

" _Second_?" she hissed at Brent. "But her project – "

"Jenny," he laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek pleadingly. "Remember, here she's among _other_ geniuses," he soothed.

Jenny was so used to Natalie being above average in settings where she always succeeded miles above the rest, that it was a genuine shock to hear her come in second. She wasn't disappointed though – this was an advanced science camp at _Berkeley_. This second place award could still carry weight on her college applications.

The winner was a small, stereotypical looking boy with large circular glasses and an inhaler sticking out of his pocket.

Jenny smiled brilliantly as Natalie stood in a row with the others – she was the only girl, and taller than both of the boys. She had on the most gorgeous dress – Jenny had splurged on it for her for presentation day – and she'd done her own hair this morning, basically just brushing it and letting it fall down her back. Jenny never cut her hair except to trim it and keep it healthy, and until Natalie expressed an interest in what she wanted to do with it, it would remain long.

"Look at her, she's so cute!" Jenny squealed. "That little lab coat – I could die," she gushed. "I'll get her some little glasses and she'll be a regular Marie Curie."

"Don't wish glasses on her, Jenny," Kate snorted, "She's on her way to being a Weird Science nerd fantasy, and you want to ruin it by making her Four-Eyes?"

Jenny laughed, rolling her eyes at Kate. She didn't want to think about Natalie getting much older – most of the time, she couldn't really believe her daughter was eight years old; more than that, she couldn't believe she herself was so accustomed to motherhood now, and so in control of where her life was going.

"How did I get so lucky?" she mused out loud.

"Perseverance, determination, stubborn will," Brent listed, ticking off his fingers. "This isn't luck, babe."

Jenny tilted her head, as the applause died down. She smiled at him.

"I don't know, Brent," she murmured.

She often asked herself how much of this was just how Natalie was, and how much of it was her influence. Yes, Jenny had kept Natalie in school, kept her fed, safe, warm, and made sure she always knew that above anything, she came first, but did that account for Natalie's personal drive, her smarts, and her curiosity?

The question was, would Jenny have been as successful as a mother if Natalie had been an infinitely more difficult child?

There were still years to come, after all.

"Whatever you're thinking, just make sure you tell Natalie that it's what I said – perseverance, all that good stuff," Brent joked.

Natalie trailed off the stage, and the director announced that next would be superlatives. They went through the list of unique designations: best at physics, class clown, most likely to be a mad scientist, and then –

"Most Likely to Succeed, Miss Natalie Winter Gibbs!"

Jenny grabbed Brent's knee excitedly, and then clapped with all her heart, watching Natalie go back up to take the certificate and the little Berkeley spirit pin. She felt more successful in this moment than she'd ever felt in her life, and she was suddenly seized with a fierce sense of confidence.

"We awarded this honor to Miss Natalie not only because she showed an irrepressible desire to learn, even when she struggled with a concept, but also because she was uplifting and helpful to her peers. It is our belief that well-liked individuals with inquiring minds and excellent people skills have the brightest futures."

Jenny turned to Brent, her eyes glittering.

"I'm so glad I got her out of Stillwater," she choked. It was one of the few times, when she really thought about it, that she was fiercely, aggressively, and unabashedly proud that she had run far away from that little town so she could try to give this accidental child so much more.

She lunged forward and hugged Brent, pressing her lips to his quickly.

"Thank you, Brent," she breathed.

He laughed, rubbing her shoulders.

"What did I do? She came to me that smart," he snorted.

Jenny poked his chest, and kissed him again swiftly, before a poke from Kate reminded her that people were watching.

"You gave me the flier," she reminded him. "You treated her equal to the boys."

Brent shrugged, his brow furrowed, amused – of course he had; he was raised in Portland, after his parents left the Haight-Asbury district for a more family-friendly area; his father was a philosophy professor and his mother's familial female activism went back to Seneca falls – he hadn't seen Natalie as male or female, but as a smart kid who deserved all the supplements she could get.

Like that, the ceremony was over, and Jenny was up and rushing to find her daughter.

Natalie came skipping over, holding up her pin and medal. Jenny crouched down to hug her, and then wipe the soot from her brow with a moistened thumb.

"I am so proud of you," Jenny cried. "I am so, so proud of you," she repeated.

"Even if it's just second?" Natalie asked.

Jenny felt a flicker of disappointment in herself for that moment of annoyance she'd had when Natalie hadn't been awarded first; she realized it wasn't that she cared about the placing, she'd just been surprised. Now, she stroked Natalie's hair, and nodded firmly.

"Just second? Look at what you accomplished," she said warmly. She patted Natalie's cheek affectionately. "You made friends, you learned so much, you put your heart and soul into it – honey, you're my hero."

Natalie giggled, leaning forward to kiss Jenny's cheek. She stepped back and held up her medal.

"Look, Mr. Langer," she said politely. "I did it!"

"That means one day, I get to tell all the media outlets I taught the illustrious Natalie Gibbs back with she was just a child prodigy and not yet the formidable astronaut we all know and love."

Natalie gave him an amused look and crossed her arms.

"I think I want to study dinosaurs now," she announced. "Logan, he did a project on fossils, and he said there's a book on how you can make dinosaurs come back, and a movie, and I want to read it."

"She's talking about _Jurassic Park_ ," Brent muttered.

"I'll look into it, Bug – the movie is too violent, but maybe you and I can read the book together and talk about it," she placated. "Who's Logan?"

"He's my boyfriend," Natalie said matter-of-factly. "He won the class clown award. I'll show you him – KATE!" she cried, suddenly noticing the Navy uniform.

Kate dropped to her knees dramatically, eyes wide.

"Oh my god – it's her, it's Sally Ride! Sally, tell us, what's it like to be the first woman in space?"

Natalie giggled, and pushed away the invisible microphone Kate was miming to hug her. Jenny turned to Brent and gave her a dubious look.

"Boyfriend?"

Brent burst out laughing.

"You'd be surprised," he snorted. "One time, at recess, Mrs. Pritchett and I had to break up a stick-sword fight between Billy and Chase over who was going to push Lindsey on the swings."

"I assume Lindsey is second grade's Phoebe Cates?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Natalie," Jenny called. "Boyfriend?" she repeated.

Natalie nodded, standing next to Kate with one hand on her hip.

"Yes," she said seriously.

"How so?" Kate asked, just as serious. "What is your definition of boyfriend?"

"Oh, well, you know," Natalie answered blithely. "He thinks my hair is nice, so I don't get mad when he pulls it as long as he stands quietly and hands me my beakers when I'm working. And he brought me cheese fries."

Jenny tried not to completely lose her head with hysterical laughter. She just nodded as seriously as she could.

"That's a real man."

"Where is he?" Brent asked, pretending to look stern. "I'd like to give him a talkin' to."

Natalie gave him a smug look.

"No, you don't, Mr. Brent," she said wryly. "I told Logan I'm the best girl, because I don't have a Daddy who will beat him up. My friend London said if he pulled her bow again, she'd make her Daddy punch him."

Jenny's smile faded slightly. She cleared her throat, and Kate stroked Natalie's hair, unsure how to diffuse the situation. Brent scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Hey, Nat," he said cheerily. "How about I beat the boys up for you?"

" _No_ ," Jenny said under her breath, shortly. "Don't, Brent."

"I'm not _actually_ gonna hit a bunch of kids – "

"Don't _step_ into that role," she snapped.

Brent held up his hands, his face falling a little, taken aback but understanding. Jenny was surprised at her own reaction, but something so hostile had risen in her at the mere implication that Brent might act as Natalie's – as Natalie's father.

She might feel differently if Gibbs had been the one to run off, leave her, abandon Natalie, but it wasn't like that, and Jenny, despite her own personal need for contact and companionship, did not feel a desperate need to find a father for Natalie. She had one, it was just … complicated.

Natalie watched them critically, her blue eyes calculating. She lifted her necklace to her lips, and started chewing on the dog tag.

"Stop that," Jenny ordered immediately. "You're going to ruin your teeth, I swear, baby," she warned. "And don't – don't let boys pull your hair," she added. "Make them be nice to you."

Natalie shrugged primly.

"I like it when he teases me," she said wickedly.

Jenny lifted her eyes to the ceiling, shaking her head – heaven help her, this girl had inherited some of her mother's traits; she distinctly remembered an eighth-grade Gibbs finding out that it bugged Jenny when his feet were on the back of her chair, so he did it every day – she'd snap at him, only to miss that stupid smirk when he was absent.

Natalie beckoned a child her age over, and neatly presented him.

"This is Logan. His last name is Mariano because his dad is Italian," she said seriously.

Jenny looked at the boy standing in front of her. He looked normal enough, except maybe his grin looked a little too innocent.

"Hi Natalie's Mom," he said formally.

"Hello, Logan," she answered, bending down a little. "I hear you have a girlfriend."

He scuffed his foot in the grass. He smirked at her. His mother called him back over, and Natalie skipped forward, clicking her tongue.

"Can you call Logan's Mommy and let him come play one day?" she asked.

Jenny nodded – she'd see about it; she saw no reason to have some ridiculous overreaction to a little juvenile romance. Besides, she wanted Natalie to keep in touch with these friends; this group of kids was going places.

"Anyone else you want to keep in touch with?"

Natalie thought a moment.

"London. I liked her. She panics and has to breathe into a paper bag," Natalie frowned, "but I told her she should calm down, because her Mommy would probably still love her if she wasn't first place."

Jenny nodded again.

"And where do they go to school?" she asked.

"Oh, private schools," Natalie said quickly. "Saints, you know. Logan goes to Saint-something and London goes to Saint-something and at London's school they have a whole meditation period."

Jenny shot a look at Brent, and he glanced away, compressing his lips to avoid a smirk. She knew he had the same opinion as she did when it came to non-traditional or whimsical education: hogwash. Still, she tilted her head with interest.

"Well, what about everyone else?"

"They all go to those kinds of schools," Natalie said with a shrug. "One of them I can't even pronounce, some guy's name. But at one school, they teach you a different language! I think I want to learn Chinese."

Jenny turned to Brent.

"Is she the only public school student who was accepted?" she asked.

"I guess so," he answered. "I only submitted her and one other from Daisy Road," he added. "No one else qualified – though I got an earful from Stephen Carter's mother about it."

Jenny hoped the earful didn't have anything to do with Natalie being Jenny's daughter, and Brent dating Jenny. She didn't press about it, and she looked at Natalie with pride.

"You take what you got, and you run with it," she told her. She hesitated. "You know, someone is always going to have more than you, and someone is always going to have less than you, and you can blame your problems on that, or you can find your own way to succeed."

Natalie blinked at her, and nodded.

"So, Bug," Kate drawled. "You think you're going to go to school here one day? Be a big, fancy Berkeley grad?"

"No," Natalie said solemnly, glancing around. She wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes the campus smells funny," she confided.

Kate snickered. Jenny glared around – stereotypical, but what else could be expected around a bunch of hippies. She wanted to scream that it was the nineties – hadn't the THC fascination worn off yet? But no matter what, people would love their weed, and it would keep them from having the good conscious sense not to use it around a kid's science camp.

"Where are you going to put your medal?" Brent asked.

Natalie looked at it a moment, and then shrugged.

"I think in a drawer," she said.

"A drawer?" he laughed. "Don't you want to display it, so everyone can see how smart you are?"

She licked her lips.

"No, Mr. Brent. If you have to tell people you're smart, you aren't."

Jenny grinned, and stroked Natalie's hair back.

"You got it, babe – hungry?" she asked, glancing at Brent.

He swept his hand out gallantly.

"If it please you, my lady Natalie," he said dramatically, "I wondered if I might interest you in lunch on the boardwalk – a celebration of scientific excellence with everyone in attendance – "

"Well this is grand for something that you just suggested," Jenny laughed, wrapping her arms around Natalie and hugging her.

Natalie clasped Jenny's hands and looked up, resting her small fingers over Jenny's.

"Got you," Brent said, smirking. He pointed over her shoulder. "I made a reservation two days ago – it's not just for Nat; it's for you, too," he added, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "A little bird told me you were offered a contract at NCIS," he murmured.

She turned, slightly distracted by his whisper, but wondering what he was pointing at; there stood Melanie and Max, Melanie with – Jenny tried not to roll her eyes, but had to give in – a bottle of champagne.

Jenny turned back.

"It's conditional upon academic standing at graduation and continued performance," she said, trying to brush it off –needless to say her trail period at her internship had gone well, and Hetty had already decided to sketch out a path for possible job permanence.

Jenny would think it was unreal and unbelievable, if she hadn't already seen how dire a necessity it was for NCIS to get Cyber divisions up and running. She had certainly chosen the right major – computer competent employees were in high demand.

"You didn't even know if Natalie was going to win something," she said under her breath.

Brent blew her off with a smile, and they headed over towards Jenny's mother.

"Kate, you're welcome to come as well," Brent said cordially. "You're a constant fixture; I saved a spot in case you'd want to – "

"Thank you, Brent, but I've got plans with my – "

"Which is why I asked for a plus one, for you," Brent said smoothly.

Kate tilted her head up, shaking her head. She looked at Jenny wryly.

"Try to do better than this one, just try," she challenged. She laughed. "I'll call Jackson," she acquiesced – Kate's boyfriend, Jackson St. James, was a Secret Service agent working at the FBI counterfeiting division at Pendleton. They'd been dating about since Kate borrowed his truck last September.

She paused, and pointed over at Max, smirking.

"Is Melanie really going to marry him?" she asked.

Jenny laughed, waving Kate off to go call Jackson to meet them. She shrugged, and nodded – indeed; Melanie Shepard was quite eager to let Max the Officer tie her down after all these years.

Melanie popped the bottle of champagne as they approached, and Jenny shook her head.

"Mom, this is a second grader's science fair – "

"This is for me, darling."

"It's _eleven_ a.m."

"Yes," Melanie agreed, "but Max finally got me a ring," she said, flashing a glittering diamond at them all.

Jenny took her hand, and smiled, admiring the gem. Max had proposed long before Melanie had decided what kind of ring she wanted, and he went happily along with everything; the only sign that he was ever fazed by Melanie was the small crease that permanently sat in his forehead – a crease of slight amusement.

Jenny knew this crease well; Jasper Shepard had it, too.

"Hi, Max," she greeted.

"Jenny," he returned, kissing her cheek. He flipped an officer's coin to Natalie. "Hold on to that, kid," he said seriously. "It'll do you good someday."

She pressed it to her heart, and smiled at him. Max tipped his ball cap at her gallantly – he wasn't in uniform, but it still always tickled Natalie to death when he did that with his cap. Max was tall, sandy-haired, and clean-shaven. Before he'd joined the Air Force, he'd been an English teacher in Connecticut. Wanderlust had gotten the best of him, and he now had a distinguished military career.

"Jack's gonna meet us there," Kate said, coming back over. She nodded to Max, and Melanie stepped forward, handing her the bottle.

"Jenny, come here a moment," Melanie said lightly, beckoning her secretively.

"What the hell – oh, Nat, heck, sorry – does she want me to do with this?" Kate asked in the background, and Jenny tried not to snort.

Melanie turned her back to the small gathering, and tilted her head, studying Jenny's face.

"What, Mom?" Jenny asked warily. "I already agreed to be Maid of Honor – are you replacing me?"

"No, darling," she said, shaking her head with a laugh. She composed her face seriously, and hesitated. She took a semi-deep breath, winced, and pressed on. "I had a couple of answering-machine hang-ups, last week," she said. "You know – hear the beep, then the click? I didn't think anything of it, but today I was home when the phone rang."

Jenny swallowed, her face falling a little.

"Gibbs," she guessed grimly.

"Max answered," Melanie said calmly. "I un-confused the situation – told him you had moved, but I was still at the same place."

Jenny stared at her.

"And?"

"Well, he did ask who the man was," she laughed quietly.

"What did he want?"

"You, naturally."

"Did he ask for _me_ , or for Natalie?"

" _You_ ," Melanie replied.

Jenny wasn't sure what to make of that. She looked over her shoulder, furrowed her brow, and sighed.

"Did you give him my phone number?" she asked warily.

"No," Melanie said. She paused. "But I did tell him you'd return his call," she admitted firmly. "It seemed time-sensitive. The number he gave me was residential. Oceanside."

Jenny pursed her lips.

"He can't… _possibly_ still be at Pendleton," she hissed. "He can't – I got that card from Hawaii, and then it's from some woman, if I'm judging the handwriting correctly – and how can he have had total radio silence, if he's been in the same damn place—"

"Jenny. _Jenny_ – Jennifer," Melanie said shortly. "I don't know. Don't get worked up right now. You need to call him. Talk to him yourself."

Jenny pulled away slightly. She crossed her arms over herself and bit the inside of her lip hard, looking over at the small group of people. Natalie was standing at Brent's feet, regaling him with either a camp story or some fascinating facts about some completely off the wall subject, and Jenny stood wondering what the hell Gibbs could possibly want; what would provoke him to contact her in the middle of the summer of nineteen-ninety-three, when she hadn't heard from him since before he deployed to Kuwait.

* * *

Jenny sat at a neat, vintage table near one of Captain Max Danes' vintage collector planes, which was parked strategically on the site of this abandoned World War Two airfield. She found the temperature pleasant in the air vehicle's shadow, and she toyed nervously with the stem of a wineglass – from which she was not drinking.

She'd just escaped from Kate under one of the wings of another plane; Kate, who had cornered her and accused her of purposely stepping aside to avoid Melanie's bouquet. Jenny denied the accusation, but privately agreed that the move had been intentional; she had a distinct fear of even any symbolism that would bring up marriage between herself and Brent.

The man in question sat next to her, his bowtie undone lazily and his manner relaxed.

"This is the strangest wedding I've ever been to," he remarked gleefully, looking around.

It was nineteen forties themed, set in an old abandoned airfield, and decorated accordingly; Jenny's hairstyle and lush red lipstick corroborated that. The quintessential moment in the wedding had been when the kiss was initiated, and Max and Melanie imitated the iconic victory kiss in the New York photo.

Jenny rolled her eyes fondly.

"When she married my father, she had twenties theme. She wore a flapper dress," she said. "I've seen the pictures. It was very nice."

"What does your father think about this?" Brent asked, amused.

Jenny shrugged.

"They're quite good friends," she said thoughtfully. "I think she invited him." Jenny laughed. "But God forbid he come out here and have to interact with me. He might have to stop being disappointed and be impressed."

Brent didn't touch that; he didn't know her father, beyond what she'd said about him fleetingly, or what Natalie mentioned about conversations.

Jenny checked her watch, and looked around for Melanie. Natalie came to the table, flushed, and grabbed Brent's hand – she had two flowers tucked in her hair, taken from the bouquet. She bounced on her small heels a little.

"Brent, Brent, can you dance with me?" she asked innocently. "I won't step on your toes; promise."

He laughed, but glanced at Jenny warily. He shook his head a little.

"I'm not really a dancer, Nat," he said.

Jenny gave him a funny look.

"You can dance with her, Brent," she allowed. "I won't get jealous," she snorted.

Brent gave her a hesitant look still, and glanced at the floor. Jenny followed his eyes, and saw Max's elderly father dancing with Melanie. She turned back, unperturbed, and then she understood.

"Father-daughter," mouthed Brent.

Jenny leaned forward. She thought for a moment that she might allow it, and then she just couldn't; she shook her head.

"Why don't I dance with you when the electric slide comes on?"

Natalie looked a bit upset, but drew back somewhat. She folded her arms. She looked about to say something, but at that moment, Max swept in, and saved the day. He held out a hand and bent to Natalie's level.

"May I have this dance, granddaughter?" he asked, very seriously – as if his very happiness depended on it.

Natalie spun in her dress and let him whisk her away, rising on her tiptoes. Jenny gave him a look of gratitude over Natalie's head, and straightened slowly, pushing her abandoned wine away. She only looked up at Brent after a moment, and he sighed, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, and frowned a little.

"Today's not a good day, Brent," she warned tensely. "I can't let her label you like that."

"Jenny, we've been seeing each other – "

"Three months. Natalie has known, and we've been openly serious, for three months," she said firmly. As far as she was concerned – and she thought he understood this – the tentative period of getting to know each other before that didn't count towards time dated.

Jenny pushed her hair back anxiously.

"It's going to take time. She'll associate father with permanence, and until I'm sure – _if_ we're ever sure," she broke off. "It's too soon for this conversation," she balked. She checked her watch again. "I have to go."

Brent popped his hand on the table lightly, so as not to draw too much attention.

"You won't let me have a dance with her, but you're about to leave me to watch her at your mother's wedding, while you run off to meet biological Daddy."

Jenny gave him a sharp look.

"Her grandparents are watching her," she corrected, a nasty edge to her voice.

"Why do you think she'll associate _father_ with permanence, considering his track record?" Brent asked coolly.

Jenny said nothing at all. She looked at him, her eyes unreadable and calculating, and she decided not to react; she didn't want to fight, and she didn't want to go to this meeting all riled up. Brent didn't know what he was talking about, but he meant no harm – and he said what he said because he didn't have all the information.

"I have to go," she repeated. "I won't be long – I'll be back to see them fly off."

"Why does it have to be now? Didn't you tell him it's your mother's wedding day?"

Jenny just gave him a warning look, then stood, and bent to kiss him swiftly on the mouth. She glanced over at Max and Natalie – contently enjoying the dance still – and she took her keys and slipped out, even leaving her purse in case Natalie asked where she'd gone. It would look like she was coming back imminently – she didn't like being deceitful towards Natalie, but it was more omission than lie, and she'd…just decided it was best.

For reasons unknown, Gibbs had picked this day, unaware it was a wedding day; he'd insisted this was the only day he could make it; so she ducked out of Melanie's nuptials to steal away to the place on the beach where she'd met him four or five years ago, before he went to sniper school.

She drove to the beach – it was half way between her place and Pendleton, and even though it wasn't a frequent spot for her, she knew it by heart; it was emblazoned in to her memory. She forced herself into a state of practiced calm as she drove, refusing to dwell, refusing to speculate – God, since Melanie had told her he had called, since she'd called back and he said he wanted to meet – she'd been silently going out of her mind.

He'd said – he wanted to see Natalie; he'd asked to stop by. She'd chosen a neutral address – she'd been vague on the subject of Natalie and finally – she'd chosen not to involve their daughter at all, and Gibbs…Gibbs was no doubt expecting her.

She parked the car, and made her way to the hot sand, brushing her hair back in the wind and shivering her little as the flapping of her dress sent chills up her legs and to her spine. She found her way cautiously along the benches that lined the fenced off parts near the grassy areas of the beach, and when she saw him sitting on one, she stopped.

She stood there, staring; waiting. He was bent over, his hands on his head, staring at – his knees, or the sand, or something beyond – and she looked at the curve of his neck and the hunch of his shoulders, almost paralyzed with something – something she hadn't felt in a long time.

When he lifted his head, would he look the same?

"Jethro," she said hoarsely.

He sat up, turning his head, and she caught her breath: yes, the same – and no, not the same at all. His eyes were the same blue, his jaw the same shape, his hair – the same jarhead cut. His face was still so unreadable and so Gibbs-like – but there was a scar just at his brow, and something in the blues of his eyes was changed; a little haunted, maybe, a little tired.

His eyes only met hers for a second; immediately, he was looking around, turning his head slightly. Only when he didn't see what he was looking for did he raise his eyes back to hers, and clear his throat, unclenching his jaw.

"Where's Natalie?" he asked roughly.

She compressed her lips.

"I didn't bring her," Jenny said bravely.

To her infinite surprise, he looked down at his interlocked hands, and he smiled. He smiled, and lifted his head up, squinted into the sun, and then leaned back, shoulders sagging. He shrugged a little – a small movement, but a violent one.

"Figured."

She approached him and sat down on the bench next to him, her knees pressed together.

"What did you expect, Jethro?" she asked, already fighting guilt. "It's been years since she's seen you."

He looked at her stiffly. He looked at his hands.

"You said call, anytime," he said, harking back to an old, old conversation. "And I'd see her."

"That was before you dropped off the planet!" Jenny retorted. "You haven't even called, like you used to – I know it would have been hard at first, to get leave, but now – "

He turned to her, a hard look in his eye, and a tightness to his jaw.

"You made it pretty clear, last time I saw her," he said in a low voice, "that me doin' that would just confuse her – I got the idea you didn't want me around, Jen."

She swallowed.

"Jethro, I didn't mean," she stopped, thinking back to their last meeting.

Maybe it was feasible he had taken it that way. She had worried about things being ultimately confusing for Natalie.

"It was the kind of worry all mothers have," she said quietly. "I didn't mean take yourself out of her life completely."

"You wouldn't let me talk to her before Kuwait," he pointed out coldly.

"That was - you wanted to tell her you were off to fight bullets!" she hissed. "That kind of stress – " she broke off, again, at the look on his face, and she fell silent.

"You made your point more than once, Jen," he decided, "while you tried to pretend you didn't run off with her."

She looked out to the ocean. She closed her eyes.

"Why are you here, Jethro?" she asked softly.

He leaned forward, pressing the knuckles of one hand into the palm of another. She sensed him struggling with his words, trying to figure out what he was going to say. The muscles in his arm and back looked tight and full of uncertainty, and she resisted the urge to reach out and touch him soothingly – she clenched her fist on her thigh.

"I've got orders to Quantico," he said finally. "Got a new MOS, with a promotion," he added, stalling. He didn't elaborate on that. He turned his head, catching her eye cautiously. "I wanted to see her, Jen. More. Talk to her."

She could tell he meant – on a schedule; with some kind of regularity.

"Quantico?" she blurted. "Where - ?"

"Virginia. Outside of D.C."

Her eyes widened.

"You want – _how_ , Jethro?" asked desperately. "You want me to send her across the country every other weekend? For summers? You've been in Pendleton for years and now – "

"I haven't been at Pendleton this whole time," he interrupted curtly.

She didn't mention Hawaii, but she remembered that of course he'd been there, it's just when she heard he was at Pendleton now, she'd got herself to thinking that must have been a honeymoon or something. That was another thing that bothered her – what would she be sending Natalie into, if she re-opened the lines of communication?

"How do you think this is going to work?" Jenny demanded.

He did that smile again, that one that was starting to make her heart ache; like he was carefree because he knew she'd hurt him, knew she'd disappoint him, knew he could count on her to exceed his worst expectations.

"I'd take leave to see her," he ventured. He sounded unsure of it himself. "I'd call, she'd call," he hesitated, like he didn't know what else to say. "I'm tryin', here," he said gruffly.

"No," Jenny said, shaking her head rapidly. "No – she hasn't seen you – she barely knows you – Jethro, this is out of left field! When I said – when I said you could see her or talk to her anytime, back then, that was when I thought you'd establish a pattern, that you'd make more of a concentrated effort while she was little, so she'd grow up with a clear understanding – you can't just barge back in when she's cognitive of the more complex issues – "

"Cognitive of the more complex issues?" he quoted, cutting her off. "We aren't in a courtroom, Jenny, Christ," he swore.

"This is a very real issue, Jethro. She's not this resilient little toddler anymore. She's smart, she's sensitive, she _gets_ things - "

"How would I know that, Jen?" he asked coldly. "I don't know a damn thing about her."

"You know how old your daughter is," she retorted, just as icy. "Think about how it might affect her if someone suddenly wanted to be her Daddy out of nowhere."

Gibbs turned towards her sharply, aggressively.

"I always wanted to be her Daddy," he barked. His eyes burned, darkening with anger. "You made it this hard, Jenny. "You took her out of Stillwater, and so help me God, you never made this easy. You ever think I kept my distance so she wouldn't have to sense how much her father resented her mother?"

Jenny drew back, swallowing hard. Truth be told, she didn't think that was his reason, but it made sense, and she didn't want to go hand-to-hand with him in a knock-down drag-out. She was fairly sure she would lose; she was aware of her own guilt and mistakes, but she refused to back down from this: regardless, her job now was to make sure Natalie's life was unburdened with these problems.

"I can't confuse her," she said stiffly. "I can't disrupt her life. I don't know what you've been doing, who you associate with – and she's content; she's doing well. This would be – upheaval," she broke off.

She didn't want to bring up Brent, and she didn't, but he was part of her panic. If she let Gibbs back in – God forbid if he took her to court, then Natalie might become so infatuated with the rediscovery, she'd reject Brent – and the absurd thing was, Jenny wasn't even that serious or set on Brent, but things were progressing at a good pace and, and so much about reopening old wounds would monkey-wrench the stable little thing she had going.

There were too many uncertain variables; there was too much at stake – and she didn't want to take the risk; she was selfish, but she was, first and foremost, genuinely concerned about her daughter – and since Natalie never asked about Gibbs, never seemed to miss him or express any undying curiosity, she didn't see the need to thrust him on her when her life was going just fine.

"You're about to move across the country," Jenny said, quiet, defeated. "This came – out of nowhere, Jethro," she went on tiredly. "I'm – she's in a good place. I'm not going to do this to her."

That smile again – she was sure he was thinking _, do this to her?_ As if he were some plague, some affliction.

He looked down at his hands, and this time, she noticed a faint tan line on his left hand, ring finger. She studied it; did it mean he was divorced, or had he just decided not to flaunt, to provoke questions. She thought of the handwriting on the Christmas card, and she felt protective; she was suspicious as to whether or not some woman was behind this, some gossip, eager for drama.

She shook her head. He cleared his throat.

"I've got rights, Jen," he said dully. "I know I've got 'em."

"You take me to court," she said softly. "You drag her through that. You – what would you do, Jethro? Take her on specific dates, so you could poison her against me, tell her what an unrepentant bitch I am, depriving her so cruelly of you? She's – you'd be a monster to – "

He shook his head very slowly.

"Nah," he said hoarsely. "Think I'll wait until she's old enough to figure that out herself, Jen."

His words were so targeted, so brutal, that their impact almost made her physically double over. She parted her lips in shock; winced, her brow knitting together. He'd managed to pinpoint her greatest fear: that Natalie would someday despise her for this, that she'd learn that Jenny left and never try to understand, that she'd somehow romanticized Gibbs as a faultless, wronged hero, and drag her mother through the mud of Jezebel women.

She felt like slapping him; instead she turned her back, straightening, staring out over the beach and the ocean, trying to let it glance off of her.

She closed her eyes. She felt him get up.

"This it, Jen?"

She didn't answer.

His shadow shifted. He scuffed his foot in the sand.

"'M not doin' this again, with you," he said. The rough huskiness to his voice rang in her ears like a canon; it wasn't malicious, it was defeated, almost tortured. "I can't." He was quiet, and then he breathed in heavily. "If she ever wants me, I'll answer," he said. "I'll show up. I won't turn her down because you screwed up."

His words sounded so remarkably like a threat, and she said nothing; she didn't blame him. She'd started this cycle, she'd made it so she felt like she had to turn him down, had to cut him out – yes, he had made mistakes, and she didn't understand why he hadn't tried like her once young, romantic mind had thought he would, but that was then, and this was now.

She got up and turned swiftly, reaching into the chest of her dress. She noticed him look at her really look at her; his brow creased at her attire. She handed him a photo; a picture of her kneeling next to Natalie at the science camp, Natalie radiant in her little lab coat and beautiful long, auburn hair.

Gibbs took the photo. He held it a long moment; he ripped it in half, and handed hers back to her, so he kept only Natalie's image. When she took it, her fingertips brushed his, and she had the sudden, desperate impulse to seize him to kiss him – to at least touch him, and feel his skin under her hands.

She didn't; she drew her hand back meekly, and nodded, as if she understood. He looked like he might say something more; instead, he put his hands into his pockets, and she took a few moments of his silent to memorize things about how he looked: he was tanned, his T-shirt bore the emblem of the USMC, he had dog tags tucked into the collar, and his eyes were steel.

He turned, and he left; walking away without another word. She watched him go, and sat – no, collapsed – down on the bench, unable to take her eyes off his retreating form, feeling some kind of life-threatening sadness simultaneously with immeasurable relief.

It was another of those moments that redefined where her life was going, and this one seemed to herald Gibbs' irreversible exit. She felt all the conflict she'd felt in nineteen eighty-seven, when she'd left him, and again each time she had real contact with him – face-to-face, not just back when he'd been calling Natalie periodically.

But inarguably, dauntingly, the worst thing she felt in that moment was how much she loved him – not past tense; present tense: she had never left Gibbs because she didn't love him, but when she'd looked into those blue eyes, and she saw no flicker of emotion there, no nostalgia, no confusion or unresolved longing for her, she wondered if she'd irrevocably murdered whatever was left of what they'd had in Stillwater – if anything had been.

* * *

"An allegiance dead and gone  
I'm losing touch."  
-Losing Touch; the Killers

* * *

 _-alexandra_


	4. When You Were Young

_a/n: I think this is probably my favorite chapter of this part - I was very satisfied with it, and on several levels, I think you get more insight - though obviously, Jenny can still be pretty unconvincing..._

* * *

Los Angeles, California: 1994

When You Were Young

* * *

The wintery sun was pleasant and slightly toasty, exactly the way Jenny liked it. She never tired of being outside and comfortable in January, and today was no exception. She sat on the rusty bleachers at the community soccer fields, a nice sweater wrapped around her, and cradled a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

She was used to getting up early by now; she didn't think she'd slept past eight a.m. since Natalie had been born, but since Natalie had started school Saturdays had been –when Jenny wasn't taking a voluntary shift at NCIS to make herself look good – a day when they at least got until nine-thirty, until Natalie had started soccer.

Jenny thought eight a.m. games for nine-year-olds was a little bit excessive, since she had to get up at seven to see to breakfast and getting ready and allow for travel time – and that was _if_ she was moving fast – but once she was here and awake, she didn't mind.

Early morning games meant she and Natalie were up and at 'em for half the day, so Jenny didn't feel guilty about going in to NCIS for the afternoon. Before, when she'd been doing work on Saturdays and leaving Natalie with friends or family, she'd felt a slight twinge of guilt. This rectified that, and Natalie liked the game.

Today's bonus was that Kate had decided to tag along – Kate came to a few games when they were at a decent hour, but this was out of the ordinary. As it were, the past two weeks after the holidays had been hectic, and Kate was about to deploy to a carrier for twelve weeks. She had to fly to Norfolk, Virginia on Sunday morning, and board an aircraft carrier, and since Jenny was at NCIS from noon onward, Kate was maximizing time with her and Natalie before she left for a while.

"I changed my mind," Kate said with a yawn. "Where's the coffee stand?"

Jenny laughed, and gestured to the right.

"You get up at four a.m. for PT every morning!"

"Yeah, and then I go right back to bed until my shift starts at nine," Kate retorted. She folded her arms. "I hate mornings."

"This was an optional social event, Kate."

She sighed.

"I love you guys, though," she relented. "I don't want to get up, just give me some of yours."

Jenny laughed again, and handed over the coffee. As Kate sipped, Jenny watched to see what happened as the whistle blew; nothing, it was just a time-out, and it was still Natalie's sideline quarter.

"So, what are you doing on this carrier?" she asked Kate mildly.

"They honestly won't tell me until I get there," Kate muttered, handing back the coffee. "It'll be related to my linguistics MOS, but, who knows." She shrugged. "They're sending me because I'm cleared, so I can't say anything, anyway."

"Carriers aren't dangerous, though?"

Kate blinked.

"Not unless a Soviet nuclear sub attacks," she snorted. She wiggled her brows. "And the Cold War is over, remember?"

"Mr. Gorbachev did indeed tear down that wall," Jenny agreed seriously. She and Kate shared a look, and Jenny offered her coffee again with a grin.

"Don't worry about me, Jenny," Kate said. "I'm coming back to marry Jackson."

Jenny squealed softly and clapped her hands, glancing at the small but gorgeous ring Kate work on her left hand. Kate smiled primly, and admired it for a moment, too. She used it to point at Natalie's neat ponytail.

"I think she's more excited than I am," she remarked good-naturedly.

"She loves weddings," Jenny said emphatically. "She didn't stop talking about Mom's for months."

"Why is she on the sidelines again?"

"Everyone sits out one quarter," Jenny said. "She'll go back in in a few minutes – and then you'll really get to see what she can't do," Jenny joked lightly.

Kate snorted. It was candidly known that Natalie was notoriously…not the best soccer player.

"Why do you make her play if she's bad at it?" Kate asked, pushing her hair back.

"I don't _make_ her play," Jenny said. "I won't let her _quit_ ; there's a difference."

"Okay, Jen, my parents forced me to play violin for ten years, and they used that excuse – "

"No, Kate, if she was genuinely miserable, I would let her stop. There's also a difference between quitting, and stopping something because it's damaging your emotional well-being," she said.

"Mm-hmm," Kate muttered. "I'm not following."

"Look, she said she wanted to play a sport. I can't afford tennis lessons – which are what she wanted – so I asked her to compromise and pick a recreational sport at the Parks Department; she chose soccer," Jenny explained. "She started realizing she's not the best of the best a couple games in, and she wanted to quit."

She looked at Kate, patiently. Kate narrowed her eyes.

"So…?"

"So!" Jenny said earnestly. "I told her quitting on a team sport is very disrespectful, and I wanted her to think long and hard about whether she was quitting because she's used to being the best, or quitting because she genuinely hates it."

"Huh," Kate said, raising her brows.

"She came downstairs later, and she told me she loved her friends, and she liked her coach, and she has fun at practice, and I told her that's my point – she was bound to find something eventually that doesn't come magically to her, that she's perfect at, and challenges can be fun. She likes the game, Kate. She just isn't Mia Hamm."

"Who is Mia Hamm?"

"She's a soccer hero – you know Natalie, she researches everything about everything. She can tell you all kinds of stats about the women's world cup soccer team, but she can't score a goal or hustle."

Kate snorted, looking over as the whistle blew and the team huddled up.

"You're sure she likes it?" she asked.

Jenny appreciated Kate's concern, but she was venturing dangerously close to unwanted parenting advice territory – and it was twice as nettling, because Kate didn't have a child. She wasn't necessarily well-informed on the topic, but that was an issue Jenny had noticed in California, and Kate seemed to be falling prey to it: everyone seemed to think the village knew better than the mother how to raise the child.

"She's fine, Kate," Jenny warned. "Natalie's not afraid of me. She's always honest. And she needs this," she added, gesturing with her coffee cup. "I'm proud of her, but she needs to experience something that reminds her she's not better than anyone else because she's smart. She still needs to be humble, and decent, and well-rounded."

Kate nodded, pushing her hair back again. She clasped her hands and pressed them in between her knees.

"It sounds like you're speaking from experience," she said thoughtfully.

"Well," Jenny said dryly, "when I was a teenager, I thought I was smarter than everyone in my small town, destined for greater things, above it all – ad nauseam. My father was so busy being proud of me he never told me smart girls make big mistakes, too."

"What snapped you out of it?"

Jenny gave her an incredulous look and pointed firmly at the soccer field.

"I got _knocked up_ out of it!" she quipped loudly, unable to keep a straight face.

Kate burst out laughing.

"Oh," she said, snickering.

" _Oh_ is right," Jenny retorted. "If Natalie gets pregnant before she's got a college degree and her own two feet under her, I will have _failed_ completely."

Kate thought about that for a moment, and pursed her lips.

"Well, I bet your father thinks that about you. And you spend a lot of time trying to prove you're not a failure. You're not, Jenny," Kate said quickly. "But, there's that perspective."

Jenny hesitated.

"It's not like I'd stop loving her. I see what you're saying," she amended. "But – that doesn't mean I want – I just don't want this to happen to her." Jenny sighed, shrugging.

Kate nodded, taking the coffee swiftly.

"I get it," she said.

Jenny nodded firmly. She felt an eerie sense of understanding for her father for a moment, and that felt surreal; all the years she'd said he suffocated her, made her feel like she was ruined, nothing more than a disappointment, and she just up and declared she'd feel the same way if Natalie ever made this mistake.

It was hard to balance understanding her father, and not wanting to react like that, with also firmly impressing upon Natalie that having a baby as a teenager was a very, very stupid thing, even if you loved that baby with your entire being.

"You intimidate me, Jenny," Kate said abruptly.

"I _what_?"

"I was just thinking about when I have kids, the other day, Jackson and I were talking," Kate went on, "and I thought, God, I could never do as good as Jenny, though. I'd do it the proverbial 'right' way with the husband first and all that and I'd still never be as smart or formidable as Jenny."

Jenny blinked at her, taken aback, and startled. She shook her head, her hands resting limply on her thighs, and she laughed a little.

"Good?" she repeated, in disbelief.

"You're hard on yourself a lot," Kate said quietly, picking at her nail, "but all that stuff you just said about teaching Natalie humility, and keeping her aware of her possible faults, I don't know, I'd never have thought like that."

Jenny sighed, pushing her hair back.

"Kate," she began, shaking her head a little. "It's...I spend every waking moment, every day of Natalie's life, trying to be perfect – trying to never make a mistake, to make sure she's always seen as a good kid, because if I make a mistake, it's just … so when you get married and have kids with Jackson, if something happens, no one will call you a bad mother; they'll laugh and bond with you over how motherhood is full of crazy surprises, and things happen and _boom_ ," Jenny snapped to reiterate her point, "it's not an issue. If slip up? If I'm late to pick Natalie up? Or Natalie talks back, or acts up? It's because I'm young, lazy, irresponsible – it's because I'm a dumb slut who had a baby too young and can't do it right. That's why I look like I'm always on my toes. I'm not. It's hard."

Jenny bit down on the tip of her coffee lid, and sighed.

"I've never been drunk," she said tiredly. "Because I've got her, and I chose her over what I should have been doing when I was 21. I've never gambled, stayed out all night, gone wild…" she trailed off, and her brow furrowed. "It makes me so mad, seeing some of these girls – there's a kid in Brent's class this year whose mother is twenty-five or something, I don't know, she had her boy when she was seventeen? And she shows up hungover; she goes out drinking, she parties – it's disgusting. I had my baby, and I grew the hell up. I had to. And I still get judged the same as these stereotypical teen parents who didn't acknowledge that having a baby is not like having a sibling you let your parents raise."

Kate let out a low whistle.

"I didn't mean to bring all this up, Jenny," she apologized after a long moment. "I just – admire you. Natalie's wonderful."

Jenny swallowed hard.

"It's nice to talk about it," she said hoarsely. She hesitated. "My whole life is about Natalie, and I would never resent that; I love her and I am dead set on providing for her and loving her, but I'm afraid that when she's out of the house, I won't know how to live. I'll be thirty-something when she's eighteen, and that's so young, but I won't know how to live. I never had an adolescence. And I want _her_ to have one so, _so_ badly."

"She will, Jenny," Kate said fiercely. "Natalie isn't going to take everything you've given her, and sacrificed for her, and throw it in your face." She looked over at the field, and grinned. "Too bad she's so cute," she joked. "It would be easier to keep boys away if she was ugly."

Jenny laughed huskily.

"You know, her father said that once. We wanted ugly and smart," she remembered – some day in the old Crenshaw barn, a thousand lifetimes ago.

Teenagers with a baby. Teenagers who didn't exist anymore.

Kate tilted her head.

"So, you look like you're always on your toes, eh?" she said lightly. "What's the _worst_ slip-up you ever had with Natalie?"

Immediately, Jenny laughed.

"I was seventeen, and still in Stillwater – she'd _just_ started crawling. It was spring, so I had the screen door open to our porch at home, and I was doing my hair and listening to a boom box, because Gibbs was going to take us out for dinner. So she's playing on the floor next to me, and then I got up to pick out an outfit – feeling like a normal teenager, because it was a Saturday night, and I was going out! With my boyfriend! And I turn around, singing into a hairbrush, and Gibbs is standing there. Holding Natalie. He was _livid_."

Kate arched her brows.

"What happened?"

"Natalie had crawled outside, exploring. When Gibbs drove up to pick me up, she was sitting outside the cages for one of Dad's police dogs. They're retired – he only keeps the retired ones, and they're always locked up. It was licking her face through the bars."

Kate covered her mouth, unsure whether to laugh or be horrified. Jenny nodded matter-of-factly; that's exactly how she felt now, seven or so years later – it was a little bit funny, because nothing had happened.

"Jethro and I had a huge fight about it," she said airily. "But, he didn't tell my Dad."

She fell silent for a moment, and then took the last sip of coffee, setting it aside. Gibbs hadn't told Jasper because he'd been acting just like Jasper, in the moment; he'd really freaked out. She'd been defensive and hurt at the time, but now she didn't blame him at all; looking back, Gibbs' fierce panic over what could have happened was not only endearing, but comforting.

"You know, there was never a teenage boy who was that good with a baby," she muttered, half to herself.

Kate knew better than to say anything about Gibbs, these days. Jenny used to mention him more, used to be cautiously okay with answering questions, but now she played it close to the vest.

"While we're on deep subjects," Kate said, clearing her throat. "What's going on with you and Brent?"

"Nothing," Jenny said promptly, carefully. She cupped her hands around her mouth. "Natalie, _hustle_ ," She yelled, encouraging. "Good job, baby!" she cried, when Natalie passed the ball to a friend – the friend scored!

Jenny grabbed Kate's arm.

"Look, she's improving," she drawled, shaking Kate. "I'm totally sticking with my mantra about humility, but wouldn't it be cool if she was an Olympian and a Nobel Prize winner?" she snorted.

"Mm-hmm, yeah, cool distraction – Brent, Jenny. What's up?"

"Noth. Ing." Jenny repeated stiffly.

"The both of you seemed tense during our last double date," Kate retorted.

Jenny rubbed her jaw, and gave Kate a wary look.

"He's talking marriage," she said dully.

Kate grinned, and flashed her own finger.

"Double wedding?" she asked happily.

Jenny shook her head. She looked back out to Natalie.

"I'm not reacting the right way to the idea," Jenny admitted dejectedly. "I can feel how wrong my reaction is. I can't explain it." She paused carefully. "The last time he mentioned it, he started talking about adopting Natalie."

Kate nodded, brow furrowed.

"He loves her," she said softly. "What's so odd about that?"

"Brent is _not_ Natalie's father."

"Jenny – "

"Natalie's father is alive, he's never done anything that would allow me to revoke his rights without consulting him, his name is on her birth certificate, and I absolutely will not contact him and ask him to surrender her to someone else," Jenny listed sharply. "That isn't going to happen."

Kate gave her a frustrated look.

"He's not _involved_ , Jenny," she said. "You can't blame Brent for stuff he's not even a part of. He's not trying to co-opt Natalie, for God's sake, he's a good man – "

"Yes, and he doesn't know what he's asking when he talks about that – "

"Then tell him!" Kate snapped. "You won't tell him _anything_ about Natalie's father beyond half-truths and unclear clichés."

"Because it's none of his business," Jenny snapped back.

Kate arched her eyebrows.

"And if you don't foster contact between Natalie and her father, why does it matter if someone else takes that role?"

"Because _someday_ – " Jenny broke off, her eyes suddenly wide with apprehension.

She hadn't meant to say that; she hadn't meant to suddenly reveal that occasionally, in the back of her mind, she nursed the fanciful idea that someday, she and Jethro would end up back together.

Kate nodded and snapped her fingers knowingly.

"This ' _someday'_ , this ' _it's none of his business_ '," she quoted sagely. "Don't you think that's part of your problem?"

Jenny turned away, looking at the soccer field pointedly – things were serious with Brent, they had been for a long time now, and she was clearly stuck in one place, refusing to move forward. It was getting increasingly frustrating to him, she knew, and she hadn't yet decided if she could break down some of her barriers and move forward.

"Yes," she relented tightly, admitting it. "It's a problem."

What she said wasn't necessarily a promise to try and resolve it, to do better; it was an acknowledgment, but nothing really more, because each time she had an argument with Brent about this kind of thing, she realized more and more that while Natalie was young and under eighteen, she might never be ready to figure herself out romantically.

* * *

Jenny sat in front of a computer at the Los Angeles NCIS field office, chewing on the eroded eraser of the pencil she'd been using. She frowned and leaned back, turning her head as one of the agents burst in, looking harassed.

"Hey, Sharpe," Jenny said coolly.

"Has McLane called you?" Special Agent Whitney Sharpe asked tossing back her long blonde hair.

"No," Jenny drawled. "But Dan is scared of me."

"Well, I wish he was scared of me," Whitney retorted. She folded her arms. "He wants some kind of program to filter something about phone calls and cross-references, and he says you can do that. He says if you can't do that, I need to resign myself to spending my entire weekend doing it by hand."

Jenny arched her brows.

"That sounds incredibly time consuming."

"McLane is going insane or something, Jenny," Whitney said, collapsing into a chair. "He gets increasingly outraged that computers and electronics are so helpful, and tries to find ways to make me – us, any new agent – do things the 'old fashioned way'."

Jenny laughed.

"Well, I can write the kind of program he wants, but with short notice, it's going to take me a few days – and I might have to consult with a professor on the specifics."

"No, they'll want to classify the program – "

"Then I need to get some sort of authority to bring in a consultant in case I'm stuck. There's got to be some academic somewhere who's contracted with a clearance – I bet the FBI has a guy."

Whitney groaned, but she'd clearly prefer tracking down someone to assist Jenny's cyber efforts than grab a highlighter and ten pounds of coffee for the weekend. The young agent leaned forward, her shoulders slumping.

"They told me and the three other women they hired that we were definitely part of an affirmative action program, but we were more than qualified and wouldn't be treated differently –for God's sake, Jenny, I was in the Marines and I wasn't doubted and questioned this much."

"That's the military," Jenny said dryly. "You're all broken down and built up the same exact way; same exact training experience – you see each other as carbon-copy brothers, not rivals. The office is different."

"I'm hiding from McLane because I told him that if he wanted things back to traditional, I had to go find a way to grow a penis so he'd treat me like an equal."

"Oh my god," Jenny laughed, tilting her head back. "He's going to beat you to death with a baseball bat!" she snorted.

"As soon as he stops blustering in outrage, probably," Whitney laughed. She sighed and shook her head, folding her arms. "Where are the other geeks?"

"Uh, Agent Spano is at lunch, and Agent Carroll is fixing some wires somewhere. He has a firearms eval later."

Whitney nodded.

"I fucked up my last firearms eval," she said flippantly. She groaned. "I wish they'd just put me in special projects recruitment; I want to run ops from a management position."

"You just started!"

"They know what I'm good at," Whitney said shortly, and pointed at Jenny. "Just like they know what you're good at. Are they going to offer you an agent position when you graduate?"

Jenny shook her head.

"No, I'm a tech person," she said firmly. "I can't be an agent. I have a child."

"So do all these chauvinists!" Whitney retorted.

"Yes," agreed Jenny, "but their kids have two parents. If something happens to me, Natalie…well, Jesus, I don't know what would happen to her." She paused. "Damn, I should get on that. What if my Mom didn't take her and they sent her to Dad?"

 _Or Jethro_ , a voice murmured, and Jenny shook her head. She flushed slightly at Whitney's bewildered look, and cleared her throat. She smiled sheepishly, and tapped her lips with her pencil.

"I can look into working on that now if you want," she said. She shrugged. "I was just sketching out some theories for cyber-attack for Hetty. I'm going to submit some as part of my undergraduate thesis requirement."

Whitney nodded.

"I'll go placate the roaring beast," she said sarcastically. "Hey, when do you graduate again?"

Jenny held up her fingers smugly.

"Two months," she sang. "Right on time, babe."

Whitney gave her a thumbs-up.

"And yet, they don't pay you," she griped. "Equal pay for equal work my ass."

"Well to be fair, they don't pay the male interns, either," Jenny said solemnly.

Whitney laughed, and started to head out. Jenny turned back to the theories she was making notes on – it was a complex iteration of how warfare and intelligence might become solely digital in the future, and it was making her head hurt – but she took all of her free moments to flesh it out since, as she'd mentioned to Whitney, she was using it as part of her final project.

Instead of taking a full load of classes her last semester, she opted to take six credits as her internship, so she wouldn't struggle so hard to keep up with both – since she'd done that, she'd had to sacrifice the opportunity to get paid by NCIS and designated a student trainee instead of an intern, as government stipulations required for-credit internships be uncompensated.

Her previous semester doing NCIS full time, school full time, and parenting – along with keeping up her social relationships – had been exhausting, and expensive, since she'd taken out a loan so she could sacrifice work for NCIS. This last semester, she needed to go back to work, so she'd organized her university schedule so that a lot of was off site work. She was doing a six credit capstone thesis in lieu of two classes, a six credit internship in lieu of two classes, and the only time she had to be on campus was for her final required class, a senior seminar in intelligence and advanced hacking defense.

In high school, when she'd loved books and current events so much, and fancied herself a future glamorous lawyer or commanding political queen, she'd never imagined she'd one day learn to be so adept in the emerging field of information systems and technology.

But then, she'd never thought she'd be twenty-five and have a nine-year-old who would recite the entire periodic table, with correct assignment of atomic numbers, either.

"Jennifer?"

Hetty came around the corner, spectacles pursed seriously on her nose. She beckoned, and Jenny got up, following her into her office.

"I've got a few things to discuss with you about your future," Hetty said, getting right to the point. "Sit – yes, I've just got a call from Agent McLane; start working on that when I'm finished here. Sharpe will focus on getting you a cleared contractor if you need help, but I do think Agent Spano is capable of helping."

"Spano thinks Python is a snake," jenny laughed. "He's a mathematician, Hetty, that doesn't make him good with computers."

"Pythons are snakes," Hetty said smartly.

"They're also innovative computer codes."

Hetty nodded, and gestured again for Jenny to sit. Jenny obliged, leaning back casually; she liked Hetty, and always felt comfortable around her. She always felt comfortable around McLane, too, but that was probably because McLane was, in fact, starkly terrified of her and her computer witchcraft. With Hetty, it was more of a shared sisterhood of understanding – considering even the men who didn't know shit around here still thought they knew more than the women.

"When is it you graduate again?"

"Third week in May," Jenny replied promptly.

The closer the date got, the more on edge she felt; it had always seemed such an impossible and daunting goal, all those years ago, when she'd been a seamstress in Stillwater. She almost couldn't believe it was going to happen.

"As you were expecting – at least, I hope you had intentions to continue with us," Hetty said, looking at Jenny wryly over her glasses. Jenny nodded, and Hetty grinned knowingly. "I do have authority to hire you on once you provide us with Registrar's confirmation of degree conferral. What's your current GPA?"

Hetty never did shirk from possible awkward questions.

"Oh, it's, uh," jenny felt flustered; a twinge of her old high school pride flared up. It wasn't as good as she wanted, as she could have done, but again it wasn't because she wasn't smart – she just didn't have the time other students did. "It's a three-point-two."

"Mostly A's and B's?"

"I've only had a C in one course," Jenny said earnestly. "I got it in Russian? And I dropped it after that semester – I couldn't catch up, and Natalie had her tonsils out, and _then_ she got pneumonia – "

"Poor dear," Hetty said, clicking her tongue. "I hope she was able to sample every ice cream flavor they have. Did you know there's pumpkin?"

"I…didn't," Jenny confessed, bemused.

"To give you an idea of what you're looking at," Hetty continued. She handed Jenny a piece of paper. "That's the salary we usually hire entry level employees with. You'd have to negotiate with HR, but you might bully your way up a step or two with your experiential training. Don't tell anyone I suggested that."

Hetty winked.

Jenny smiled, and folded up the paper – she kept that in mind, but looking at that salary, she didn't know if she wanted to push it. It wasn't anything spectacular, and she'd have to go home and figure all her payments and taxes and see what income she'd be dealing with, but she had a feeling it would at least ease what she'd been dealing with since she left Stillwater. It would be a real _job_ ; a steady income.

"Your title would be Cyber Specialist. Not fancy, but that's what we've got right now. With a few years under your belt, you'd then be eligible for our in-house Master's program – paid for," Hetty said, "or you might choose to go the Agent route."

Jenny nodded politely, and Hetty leaned forward.

"The important thing I have to ask you is, are you willing to move?"

Jenny looked at her cautiously.

"What, immediately?" she asked. "McLane did warn me that coming on at NCIS means implicit agreement to possible transfers – "

"Implicit isn't the right word, but yes, we shuffle around often," Hetty said logically. "I ask specifically because there's a high probability the main office in San Diego will want you to come to them."

"Oh," Jenny said, blinking. "Well that's not far. That's just up near Pendleton."

If that happened, she could even commute there from her current place. It would take an hour or so, but it wouldn't be too bad. If she couldn't finance a move, or if Natalie really hated the idea.

"That's what's most likely. We won't be sending anyone with dependents overseas," Hetty said, and Jenny felt a flash of disappointment; travel was something she'd always wanted, longed to get back to since her father had left the Army. "I doubt they'll send you out to the Navy Yard in D.C., because the east coast is taking computer people from MIT and New York universities. They're set."

Jenny nodded – God, that was all the way across the country. That was – last she heard, from the man himself—that was the area where Gibbs was. Quantico.

"I'm surprised the west coast isn't taking computer people from Berkeley and Cal Tech," she said dryly.

"Well, we are," Hetty said shortly. "But we took you from Cal State, and you're more than qualified, and you don't have the attitude," she added loftily. "I think Kate Todd putting your name in the intern coordinator's ear was the best thing that happened to this office."

Jenny looked at her curiously.

"Kate Todd? You know Kate?"

"Not socially," Hetty said. "You did say a friend in the Navy told you about us, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jenny agreed cautiously. "But how did you know - ?"

"Petty Officer Todd is our military counterintelligence liaison," Hetty said simply. "She assists in linguistics. She knew we were looking for techies."

Jenny felt a little wary for a moment.

"She got me this position?"

"Not at all," Hetty countered. "She simply told Agent McLane – who was part of the selection committee, that it was important not to focus on big flashy names and, and men."

Jenny smiled a little, thinking of Kate. She'd just had a postcard from her, from the carrier. She seemed content with her position; she was hanging out in tropical areas on port liberty, whenever she could.

"She's on a carrier, you know," Jenny said, a little proud. "She'll be back for my graduation."

"Yes," Hetty said. "She's assisting one of our agents afloat on an investigation. It's a special project, though. I can't say anymore. I don't know anymore."

Jenny shrugged; she took national security very seriously, and she didn't need to know any more. She just needed to know that Kate was safe; and now, she needed to find a way to subtly thank her. She'd helped without making it a big, dramatic boon, and Jenny's life was better for it.

"You'll have plenty of time to consider these things," Hetty said smoothly. "We won't make an official offer until you've graduated. By then, the FBI or the NSA may have swept in."

"Or some private investor who would pay me gobs of money to encrypt his illegal stock trading," Jenny joked dramatically.

"Or that," Hetty agreed, quite seriously. She sat back, and lifted her shoulders. "I suggest you take some time off after school, a week or two, or three. Whatever you do, negotiate a duty start date so you can relax some."

"Well, I need to start making a paycheck," Jenny said lightly. "So that won't happen. But – I _am_ taking Natalie to Disneyland. She doesn't know – she'll be _thrilled_. She wants to go to Tomorrowland. Hasn't stopped talking about it since her friend London went last year."

"You treat your daughter for _your_ graduation?"

"I wouldn't have survived it if it weren't for her!" Jenny laughed. "Besides – who doesn't want to go to Disneyland? After Tomorrowland, I'm dragging her tiny butt around New Orleans Square for the rest of the day!"

Hetty smiled. She folded her arms.

"How is Natalie?" she asked, with genuine interest. No one else ever asked Jenny about Natalie, and that was fine; Jenny felt no need to extoll her virtues to her coworkers. But she did like talking about her.

"She's well," Jenny sighed. "She's halfway through third grade. She's neglecting science for the moment," Jenny revealed. "She's still very good at it, and loves it, but I think she noticed it's more boys that like that stuff, and girls were making fun of her a little. She's reading more fiction now, and she's joined girl scouts."

Jenny shrugged.

"It's a good program, so I'm fine with it. I won't step in unless she starts telling me science is only for boys. And she's not acting stupid to fit in, she's just expanding her horizons. I still make sure she hangs out with her Berkeley camp friends, though," Jenny laughed.

It was often just a relief for Natalie to have a higher caliber of intelligence a couple of times a month – Logan Mariano, still a little twerp with a clownish attitude, understood her science fascination, and London Ross, despite her lackluster – compared to everyone else – performance at the camp back in the summer, was basically a little walking dictionary. She taught Natalie new words all the time.

Jenny liked the kids, though she didn't particularly like the mothers. They were occasionally condescending to Natalie, and seemed to be of the opinion – the eerily Stillwater opinion – that Jenny was not a good role model, regardless of her current accomplishments. Jenny put up with it, though; it wasn't the kids' fault that their mothers were Orange county granola matrons.

"I'd love to see her again," Hetty said warmly – Hetty had come to the small celebration Jenny had for Natalie's ninth birthday. "She's a fascinating young woman."

Jenny grinned; she thought it odd to hear Natalie called a young woman – but Hetty had an odd, and very flattering, most times, way of defining people. Hetty nodded at the door, dismissing Jenny easily, and Jenny got up to get on that project for Sharpe and McLane. She stopped at the door, and turned.

"Hetty," she said. "There's this thing called _cookie season_ coming up – can I interest you?"

Hetty laughed good-naturedly, and Jenny rested her hand on the wall, ready to start her little pitch; she'd told Natalie, that when the time came, she'd take the order forms to work as a courtesy, to help Natalie get a cookie badge – all because the troop leader's daughter was a bully behind her mom's back, and she kept insisting she'd sell the most cookies because her Daddy did it all for her, so Natalie was determined to beat her at her own game.

* * *

Logan Mariano was glaring daggers at the two girls in his treehouse, fed up with their girlish nonsense.

"London!" he whined.

He swatted at the Gameboy in Natalie's hands, and frowned when she easily avoided him. He never liked that Natalie had such quick reflexes – and for a _girl_ , too.

"You be quiet, Logan, or I'll braid your hair next!" London Ross threatened primly.

"It's too short to braid, dummy," Logan sneered.

"Then I'll shave it all off and you'll look just like Lex Luthor," London said smoothly.

"Stop nagging each other," Natalie piped up, blithely allowing London to play with her long hair – London always wanted to play with Natalie's silky, pretty long hair. "You sound married."

" _Ew_ ," spat Logan, glaring at her.

"As if," London countered. "I'm going to marry the English prince. That's why my mommy named me after their capitol."

"Which Prince?"

"Harry. We're the same age."

"He's not even the good one, dummy," Logan said.

"He is so!"

"Harry is only king if William dies," Natalie said seriously.

London puckered her lips in a gorgeous little pout, and rolled her eyes.

"I want to be a princess so I can do whatever I want."

"Princesses are useless," Logan goaded. "They get stuck in towers and need people to get them."

Natalie shaped her fingers like a gun and pointed them at Logan, sizing him up with one eye squinted.

"Not Princess Leia," she said coolly.

" _Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!"_ mocked Logan. "She had to be saved, too!"

"Oh, _please_ ," scoffed Natalie. "Not in the other movies, nuh-uh," she reminded him. "First she had to go get Han, then she had to go get Luke – those silly boys were really draggin' her down."

Logan stuck out his tongue out at Natalie, and she handed him back his Gameboy.

"I told you I could beat it. My mom told me how the codes work."

"Cracking the codes to the game is cheating, Captain Kirk!" Logan cried.

"It's Mario, not the Kobyashi Maru," Natalie retorted.

London stomped her foot.

"Why do you guys always have to talk about that stuff?" she whined. "I hate space movies. Let's talk about a different movie. Like _The Princess Bride_!"

"Don't be such a girl, London."

"I am a girl!"

"I'm a girl, too!" Natalie protested. She stood up, gently shaking London off of her.

She touched the swirly braids London had done in her hair and smiled, turning to her.

"I bet they're so pretty," she gushed. "You should be a hairstylist when you grow up. One for the movie stars."

"My mom says that's too plebeian," London said, rolling her eyes and sitting down. "I'm supposed to be something respectable."

"Like what?" Logan asked.

"I don't know, someone's dime piece?" London said, bewildered. "I heard my Dad say my mom was raising me to be _nothing_ more than that. But maybe he was just mad. They fight _all_ the time."

"Mine do, too," Logan said seriously.

"Yeah, well, mine are getting divorced," London hissed.

Natalie furrowed her brow.

"How come?" she asked.

"Because," London says dramatically. "Daddy has AIDS. And Mommy says there's only one way he got it, but no one will tell me."

"He's gonna die," Logan said flatly.

Natalie poked him.

"He is," London said, looking at Natalie with large, innocent eyes. "Everyone dies of it. It's a plague of monumental proportions," she said astutely.

Natalie's lips puckered with sadness. She'd never known anyone who died before – and she wondered why London's parents would get divorced because her Dad was sick. She'd have to ask Mom about it later; Mom probably knew what the reason was. Mom pretty much knew everything about people's motives and actions.

"It would be okay to just be with your mom," Natalie piped up encouragingly. "I like it."

"How would you know?" Logan said suddenly, staring at her. He gave her a funny look.

Natalie blinked.

"I'm only with my Mom, duh," she answered, putting her hand to his forehead in a small smack. "Wake up, Einstein."

"Brent isn't your Dad?"

"No," Natalie giggled. "He's my second-grade teacher," she revealed. "He's Mom's boyfriend."

"I thought they were married," London said, gasping. Her eyes widened. "Is that why her last name is different?"

Natalie shrugged.

"They're not married," she said. "I think they're going to be. I like him."

"But then they might have a new baby, and they'd like it better because it would be Brent's real baby," Logan said seriously.

"Why is _your_ last name different from your Mom's?" London asked curiously – while Natalie was still processing what Logan had said.

Natalie pursed her lips.

"Mine is the same as my Dad's," she said.

"Oh, your parents are divorced," London said.

"No," Natalie said, brow furrowed. "I don't think so. I don't think they got married. I don't know, they were only together when I lived in Stillwater."

"What's that?" asked Logan.

Natalie shrugged lightly.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

That was all Mommy ever said – Stillwater. Grandpa Ghost was in Stillwater, and so was Grandpa Jack, and Natalie barely remembered it there, unless she concentrated really hard. She knew she didn't miss it. California was home.

She reached into her shirt, and pulled out the dog tags, showing London and Logan the worn and beaten up pieces of metal. There were bite marks on them; she still chewed on them absently when she concentrated. Mommy was always yanking them gently out of her mouth.

"These are my Dad's," she said. "His name's Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

London giggled. Logan smirked, and Natalie looked between them, smiling. She guessed it sounded silly to them – but it was familiar to her, so she didn't laugh. Logan took the tag and pulled it closer, leaning in.

"U-S-M-C," he read. "Marine Corps," he told London.

"I know what it is!"

"I'm just saying!"

Natalie pulled the necklace back, and looked at it.

"Where is he?" London asked curiously.

"I don't know," Natalie said again. "He's in the military. My Grandpa Max is, too, and he's in Germany right now with my grandma. Maybe Gibbs is in Germany."

"Why are you calling him Gibbs?" London giggled.

"I don't know him," Natalie said politely. "Also on his cards, he signs them Gibbs. Or – well, the handwriting is girly. So I started saying that. Except I never talk about him. I never think about it."

Logan looked incredulous.

"How come? Isn't it weird that you don't have a daddy?"

"I have one!" Natalie insisted, jingling the tags. "Everybody has one. Haven't you had The Talk yet?"

Logan blinked.

"No," he said blankly. "What talk?"

Natalie sighed primly.

"You have to ask your Mom," she said. "My mom said other kids have to ask their moms."

She didn't elaborate; she didn't want to. The last time she'd asked about her Dad, Mommy had turned it into a little conversation on where babies come from, and Natalie never wanted to talk about that again. Also, it had ended with Mom poking her repeatedly in the knee and forcefully telling her that you had to be twenty-six to have babies.

Natalie was well aware that was a lie, but she understood the sentiment. Mom wasn't even twenty-six yet.

"Why doesn't he live with you, though?" Logan pressed. "Don't you ask? Have you met him?"

Natalie faltered. She looked at her friends – she'd been over here all Saturday, playing games and running around and making up stories. It was always like this towards the end of the playdates – not this, specifically, them asking about her dad, but _this_ as in, they all sat around, kind of bored, waiting to be picked up.

Natalie tilted her head, thinking hard.

"I think I used to live with him," she said earnestly. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully a moment. She nodded. "Hey, you know what? There used to be pictures, but after we moved from Melly's, Mom never took them back out of boxes."

"Maybe your Dad's a _murderer_ ," London whispered. "And your Mom is on the run."

"Or maybe he abandoned her," Logan said, more logically.

Natalie looked at them both silently – she didn't quite know what to think, because she never took the time to dwell on this. She was happy with her mom; she was happy with her life, and she couldn't ever remember Gibbs being a constant fixture in it. She had always assumed it had something to do with the military, though she'd gotten a little more curious when Max married Melly, and he was military, and he didn't go away.

Natalie shook her head.

"He came to see me once," she remembered. "It was before kindergarten," she said solemnly. "I don't think Mommy would have taken me to see him if he was bad," she added. "She's _very_ protective. She stopped taking me to the dentist who called me pretty too many times."

"What do you remember about him?" London asked, fascinated.

For two children from relatively nuclear, and definitely well off, upper class families, the sordid tales of Natalie's non-traditional background were juicy gossip.

Natalie thought about it for a moment, trying to wrack her brains – she really didn't have clear cut memories of him, she just had snapshots, images, maybe emotions; the last time she'd spoken to him, he had sounded scared; she remembered that clearly. And she'd told him about Jethro the Gecko.

She wondered what happened to that Gecko. Emma had taken it home, and Emma had moved to Texas last year.

"He was nice," she said.

"Nice?" snorted Logan. "That's all you _got_? Nice?"

Natalie didn't say anything else. That's all she had; that's the feeling she got. She remembered a beach, and she remembered he'd been nice. He hugged her, he kissed her forehead, he took her in the water and didn't mind if he got wet, and then she'd left with Mom. She remembered more about that night than about the day at the beach, because that had been when she and Mom shared the room at Melly's, and Mom had cried _, a lot_ , when she thought Natalie was asleep.

Natalie didn't think much about him because she was content, and she never – until other people asked – felt like she needed to; but when she did feel curious, or a little sad about it, she still didn't go ask, or bring it up, because she was sensitive and intuitive, and she very clearly felt that mentioning him made Mom upset. She didn't know why, but Natalie did _not_ like when she was upset, so she just forgot about it, mostly.

Logan lunged forward, his eyes glinting with a scheme, but he was cut short; his mother called up to them from the ground, staring up at the treehouse.

"Logan Michael! Natalie's Mommy is here," she announced. "You three come out of that tree – London, I'm taking you home on my way to the Farmer's Market," she added.

They scrambled down, and Natalie beamed, slightly relieved to be done with the Spanish Inquisition. She skipped over to her mother, always happy to see the slightly messy, lovely ponytail Jenny always wore. Mom had sunglasses on today, old scuffed sunglasses that she'd had forever, and an NCIS t-shirt. She popped some gum, and hugged Natalie to her side, waving at Logan's mom swiftly – polite, but quick; Natalie knew Jenny didn't like Mrs. Mariano.

"Have fun?" Mom asked, opening a car door for Natalie once they got outside.

Natalie nodded.

"We built a volcano," she said eagerly. "Then we played – London braided my hair."

"Fabulous," Mom said, nodding approvingly. "I'm glad someone knows how to tame it."

It wasn't hard to deal with, there was just so much of it! Mom had told her she was old enough to do whatever she wanted – within reason – with it now, but Natalie liked it long and wild. Except when she was doing something science-y or sporty.

"Hey, Mom?" Natalie asked, looking up at Jenny in the sun.

Jenny ruffled her hair.

"Hmm?"

"Is my Dad dead?"

Her mother stared at her, her hand frozen on the car door. She pushed up her sunglasses suddenly, and looked at Natalie, her green eyes lost for a moment. She pursed her lips.

" _No_ , Natalie," she answered, tilting her head. "No, he's not," she reiterated firmly. She looked at her a moment, and then gestured tensely at the car.

Natalie climbed in, and when Jenny walked around and got in the front seat, she turned around.

"I would never keep something like that from you," she told her seriously. "Daddy's alive. He lives somewhere else."

Natalie nodded, putting her seatbelt on neatly. She pushed her hair back, patting it down from where Mom had tousled it. She knew that was true. She hesitated to ask anything more – and besides, why should it matter?

"Where does he live?" she blurted.

Mom met her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Wherever the last postmark was," she said.

She handed the cards straight to Natalie; she hadn't even looked last time, because Melly had brought it over. They still went to Melly's house. Natalie thought about it, and then she arched her brows.

"Germany," she said.

Jenny turned her head around curiously.

"Germany?" she repeated.

"Frankfurt," Natalie remembered clearly. "The card said 'Tannenbaum," she said.

Mom looked a little lost, a little confused. She shrugged, though, and nodded; she didn't have any information, so that must be true. She'd have to keep a sharp eye for the next card – they came on all holidays now, which was why Jenny herself suspected Gibbs _did_ have a wife stubbornly continuing with the charade.

Mom turned back around, and started the car.

"Mom," Natalie said softly, her eyes soft. "Why don't I ever see him?"

Mom sighed quietly, shaking her head a little. Natalie had no idea what was going on in her mind, so she watched her quietly, scrutinizing intently. She had no idea that when Jenny glanced at her in the mirror, the look of impenetrable concentration on her little face was the spitting image of her father's probing glare.

"It's not your fault," she said finally.

Natalie tilted her head. She thought it was an odd thing to say, but maybe it made sense. Mom probably didn't want her to think her father had ditched her because she was ugly or bad or something. She was sure there was more, but then again – maybe not. Mom didn't make a habit of making up stories, and as Natalie looked at her, she sensed inherently that this was a hard conversation, so – remembering that the last time Jenny had seen Gibbs, she'd cried herself to sleep – Natalie folded her arms, and started to talk about thin mints.

In the back of her mind, though, she wondered if Grandpa Jack or Grandpa Jasper knew anything about it.

* * *

She sat cross-legged in the middle of an unmade bed, absently drawing her nails over her kneecap while she glared pointedly at a Chinese food menu. She kept pushing her tangled hair out of her face and shaking it down her back, and she was trying to ignore a certain man's irritating restlessness. She bit the inside of her lip.

"You can't just retreat every time I bring this up, Jenny," he began.

She looked up, slapping her hand down on the menu and wrinkling it aggressively.

"I thought we were done," she said coolly.

"Done?" he snapped. "Done? We're not _done_ because you pull out a menu and ask me if I'm hungry – we're not _done_ because you just say I don't have a right to know – "

"You _don't_ have a right to know!" she shrieked, interrupting him. She gave him an incredulous look. " _I_ don't have a right to go around spilling the secrets of someone else's life because _you're_ insecure."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Brent said, storming forward. He stood at the edge of the bed. "It's not gonna cut it anymore, Jenny. I'm through with it."

"Through with what?"

"I took this slow, I respected your position as a mother, your desire to put Natalie first – I still respect that. I would never ask you to do anything but put your daughter first, but we've been together for two years Jenny – two _years_!" He held up two fingers emphatically. "You don't want her to get attached to me, or confused, but you also won't let me step up to be a father and prove I'm a stable, dependable person, so I'm stuck in limbo – and telling me about her father is not spilling the secrets of his life," he quoted angrily. "You had a baby with this man, at some point. It's your life, too. You have _every_ right to tell me what I'm dealing with."

"You are dealing with _me_ ," Jenny said fiercely. "Me. Not Jethro, not anyone who used to be in my life. Me."

"But you keep using him as an excuse!"

"Nothing we've discussed is about Natalie's father!"

"Everything we have ever fought about involves Natalie's father!" Brent shouted, his face flushing. "And you damn well know it – you're just so good at circumlocution, you make it sound like it's all about Natalie's well-being, Natalie not getting hurt – "

"I care about my daughter's emotional – "

"I'm not saying you don't! I'm saying I understand that you needed to be cautious and careful, and that I was a strange man you might bring near a very young child, but that was before she started calling me Brent, that's before she stayed at my house one weekend because you were in Nevada with NCIS – that was back then, Jenny, when things hadn't gone so far that I started to think you two were going to be my family one day!"

Jenny rubbed her face with one hand, and pushed her hair back again. She looked at him desperately, her eyes red.

"It's not that I don't trust you with Natalie!" she pleaded. "I do. I know you'd never hurt her; I know you care about her – "

"Jen, I'd call her my daughter in a heartbeat. I'd adopt her and never think of her as anything but my own – "

"She's not yours!" Jenny snapped, raising her voice. "That's the thing, Brent, you can't just come in and erase her father – "

" _What_ goddamn father?" Brent yelled. He thrust his arm out wildly. "I haven't seen head or hide of this bastard in the entire time I've known you. I've heard Natalie mention him twice, maybe, and Kate seems to have the gist of him – you mention him, maybe, but as far as I know, he's a piece of shit! What kind of man doesn't give a damn about his own flesh and blood?"

Jenny shook her head, holding up her hands.

"Brent – Brent, stop, shut _up_ ," she barked. "You don't know what you're talking about. Don't – you don't have any authority to speak on him – "

"Then tell me, Jenny," he said, slamming his hands together and sitting down heavily on the bed. "You won't open up about this. You won't tell me what the issue is. If he's not around, if he's not involved, then why is anything going to confuse Natalie? She obviously has no relationship with this guy. I've been around long enough for you to know this is real, I'm not going to bail, and I'm not opposed to the responsibility of being a father – but this guy? This guy is!"

Jenny turned her head away, looking at the wall stiffly – this had all started with another question on the topic of marriage; it always turned in to this. Lately, she felt so wary around him, like this might happen, that they were just – trying to get through it.

Every time he mentioned this stuff – marrying her, adopting Natalie; it triggered two different issues: one, that she didn't know how much she loved Brent, and two – that she felt so guilty about destroying her relationship with Gibbs, she almost couldn't allow herself to let someone else be Natalie's father figure – because she didn't need it; her father hadn't hurt her – it wasn't really his fault that he wasn't there.

"I don't talk to him, Brent," she said finally, her voice desperate. "I have no contact – and she's under eighteen; you can't adopt her if she has a living parent who has rights – and if I contacted him, he'd _never_ allow that; he'd sue for his part of custody immediately."

"So this is about you not wanting to risk provoking him?" Brent asked. "If that's the case, then I won't adopt her – I'll just be there. I love you," he said simply. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Yes," she said immediately; it was true, it did.

"Are you scared of this guy? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she gasped huskily, her voice almost breaking. "God, no, he never – he would never. He never hurt her, either. I don't want to talk about this, Brent. I don't want to talk about him."

Brent's fist clenched, whitened in frustration. He grit his teeth, and put a hand to his forehead. He stood up, and spun around, paced a moment, and then put his hands on his hips, glaring at her silently, trying to find something to say.

"I am doing my best," he said in a low voice, controlling his temper. "I am bending over backwards to try to understand, to accommodate, and you won't give an inch," he accused. "You can't have a relationship like this, Jenny, you can't expect me to be with you when this whole part of your life is off-limits! It's like being in a relationship with three goddamn people!"

She drew her knee up, and pushed her hair back, hiding her face behind her arm. Her foot crushed the Chinese food menu, and she tensed up. She had nothing to say, because he wasn't wrong. She liked Brent; she was comfortable with him, he made her happy, and he did like Natalie – Natalie liked him. She didn't know how Natalie would feel if she and Brent broke up – she didn't know what would do more damage, marrying Brent and it not working out, or ending things with Brent now.

She swallowed hard, and she looked at him steadily.

"Brent," she said clearly. "I can't talk about him. I don't want to talk about him. Natalie doesn't _need_ a father. She's fine. We're fine."

Brent swallowed tensely, and nodded.

"Okay," he said stubbornly, clearly not buying it. "Fine, you're independent women. You don't need a man around. Fine. But what's that mean about us?" he asked, gesturing between them. "Can't we just be together? You don't have to call me Natalie's father," he said sarcastically, "but she's not a little idiot. If we get married, she's going to associate us with the nuclear family. You can't say 'this is mom's boyfriend, but he's just your friend.'"

Jenny nodded.

"I know," she said, looking down at her hands.

He rubbed his jaw.

"I thought we were working towards something. I thought we were taking all the right steps, to get to a point where I could be a part of your life, and it wasn't a threat to Natalie, and we're all happy. I thought that's what we were doing. And here – am I finding out that I never had you? You're saving this … this space," he said, picking up speed. "It's like you're saving this space for Natalie's father to come back. To let him just pick back up, being Daddy, being your man," he ticked off things on his fingers. "Is that it, Jenny? You don't seem like the type of woman who'd wait around for twenty years moping – I don't go for the Miss Havisham type –

"He didn't leave me!" she interrupted finally, raising her voice. "He didn't leave me, he didn't leave her – Natalie's father is a Marine, and I left him while he was at training! I wrote him a Dear John letter and I took off and the last time I spoke to him, I told him the same thing I'm telling you – everything is about Natalie. Everything is about me not confusing or troubling _Natalie_!"

She caught her breath after her confession, and Brent stared at her - -she had no idea what he was thinking for a moment, and then his brow furrowed, and he put his fingers near his head as if he couldn't grasp what she was saying.

"This is the real world, Jenny. This is life. Natalie isn't going to exist in an impenetrable, homeostatic bubble – things change, people change, and she's an incredibly smart, adaptable girl – it sounds like what you're trying to do is make sure she never blames you for any of your mistakes!"

"It wasn't a mistake for me to leave Stillwater," she snapped curtly. "Natalie never would have had things like science camp there. I never would have gotten this degree, or this job –"

"Stillwater."

"Yes, Stillwater."

"You said it wasn't a mistake to leave Stillwater," Brent said coldly. "You didn't say anything about it not being a mistake to leave _him_."

She suddenly felt like snarling at him; but only because he may have caught her – she didn't like mirrors held up to her; she especially didn't like him poking her sore spot, that she was afraid Natalie was going to go wild in these upcoming tumultuous years, and decide everything was Jenny's fault.

She grabbed the menu and got up, tucking her hair back. She swept her robe off of the side of the bed and slipped it on over her tank top and panties, tying it. She felt too vulnerable, suddenly; she felt penetrable and weak. She put her hand to her jaw, and then let it fall to her hip.

"She's so smart, she makes you think she's so mature, and such a little adult," she said pleadingly. "But Brent, we talked about this – book smarts _do not_ equal emotional intelligence. She's more perceptive and astute than most kids, yes, but she's also _just_ a little girl, and I don't want this to become a thing – where if it doesn't work out, she has a complex, because that's another man out of her life – and I don't want to bring him _back_ into it – I don't even know what he's doing, maybe he has his own family he doesn't want to disrupt – in case that doesn't work out, and she feels like this is all somehow her fault – I am just trying to do what is best for my child, until she is old enough to make her own decisions – "

"Jenny," Brent said, frustrated, hoarse, "you're so desperate to protect the perfect equilibrium of the status quo you've constructed, you won't give her enough credit. You won't give her a chance to understand, you won't give me a chance. It's not like she's been tormented by a string of men who have warped her. It even sounds like – her father didn't disappoint her, he's just not around – "

"It's complicated," Jenny said quietly.

She put a hand on her hip. She opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and shook her head.

"You know what my father told me, the other day? Natalie called him. She called him, and she asked about her Dad. She asked," Jenny faltered. "She asked where he was. She even called his father, her Grandpa Jackson."

Brent looked at her warily.

"And they told her – I'm grateful, infinitely – they both told her that it was best if she ask me, because – well I don't know what my father would have said, he liked Gibbs better, after I left, but Jackson told her the only person who would make it make sense would be me, which was a little underhanded, but – "

"What did you tell her?"

"That's the thing!" Jenny smacked her one hand into her palm. "She _never_ mentioned this to me. She called them behind my back, and then she _never asked_. I don't know what's going on in her head. And that makes me so, so uncomfortable. If she's struggling with something, I need her to know my attention will be one hundred percent for her, not for a wedding, not for – maybe I've been working too much, I don't know," Jenny said, pushing her hair back.

"But what the hell would you tell her, Jenny?" Brent asked, exasperated. "You refused to take her to see him the day of Melanie's wedding. You're saying that if she started asking, you'd suddenly be okay with disrupting her life?"

The way he said it sounded sarcastic, and Jenny didn't know how to explain it to him. It wasn't all his fault that he couldn't get it; there were certain parts, just by virtue of being a man and not a parent, that he wouldn't get, but other parts, she just wasn't going to let him see.

She licked her lips nervously.

"If Natalie – if she came to me, and she was serious, she wanted to see him, or find him, I'd take her seriously. But it has to come from her, don't you see? I wasn't going to just thrust Gibbs at her out of nowhere – and he dropped the ball on establishing a definitive, ongoing relationship, long-distance or no, so where I am right now is, is…" she faltered for a moment. She put her hands up, as if presenting a physical object. "I'm in a position where it has to be Natalie's choice. I put myself in that position, but that's how it's going to be."

"It's all about Natalie."

"Why are you saying that suddenly like it's a bad thing?" she hissed viciously. "You just said – "

"But Natalie's well-being is _not_ on the line with me! I won't leave – if you'll agree to let me in – and if and when she wants to address her father, I won't stand in the way of that, either! What part of me being in love with you is so maddeningly hard for you to understand? That means it's for better or for worse, in sickness and in health – and you have _got_ to do one single thing in your life for your own emotional health, Jenny! You're in a good place. You have established irrevocably that Natalie comes first – "

"We haven't even talked about what we want in the future!" she said, trying to deflect. "Our goals, our – "

"You mean like if I want kids? If you want more?" he asked, shaking his head. "Don't change the subject."

"Those are necessary subjects for marriage," she snapped.

"Okay," he snarled. "Do you want another baby?"

"I – no!" she blurted. "I'd have to start all over again just when I get a chance to live my life – "

"Why do you think you'd have to wait to have another baby until Natalie was out of the house?" he asked, throwing his hands up.

"Because raising Natalie right is everything to me! It means the world! I had her when I was sixteen, Brent; she deserves every second of my ambition and drive. I don't want that divided by some kid who had the privilege to come into the world in a stable, quintessential home."

"From the sound of it, it's going to be you and Natalie, impenetrable, until the day she goes to college," Brent barked.

Jenny's mouth snapped shut stubbornly.

That was it, wasn't it? He hit the nail on the head – she didn't feel like she had a right to anything like this until Natalie was set to go; until Natalie was squared away and taken care of and _raised_.

"You keep saying you love me," Jenny said. "Do you love me, or are you getting angry you've wasted two years on me?"

"Wasted?" he quoted. "I don't think I've been _wasting_ these years, Jenny!" he cried. "I thought we _both_ were working towards something here!" He came forward, taking her elbows in his hands. "I love you. I've never been shy about that. You don't have to be afraid that I'm going to disappoint you, or walk out on Natalie – "

She ripped her arm away.

"Love is not the cure-all!" she shouted. "Love does not endure every single hardship; love does not overcome all adversity!" She sounded like a crazed poet, but she didn't care; her trauma bubbled over, because now, years and years later, she still didn't quite understand how her desire to run far away from Stillwater and get out from her bubble-world relationship hadn't quenched the mind-numbing, consuming way she'd felt about Gibbs when she was a teenager. "I've been in love – I've loved someone so much that it defied all logic and _I still left_! It still wasn't enough to withstand hardship – you cannot promise me that you'll never leave, because love is _hard_."

She punctuated her last remark by slamming her fists together, and Brent took a step back. His shoulders slumped, and he put his hand on his jaw, gripping tensely. He looked like he might say more, but he fell silent for a long time. She swallowed hard, a few times, feeling a little sick – she was clearly blaming him for her own mistakes, projecting her own faults onto what might happen with them – and she wasn't taking into account that she'd been barely nineteen back then, when she couldn't make love work.

"You've been in love," he said finally. "But you're not in love now."

She opened her mouth, realizing how he'd interpreted; what she'd said. No words came to her lips to correct him.

"I am in love," she forced herself to say.

He shrugged.

"Not with me."

He bent down and picked up the menu, looking through it.

"Bottom line, Jenny," he said tiredly. "You need to figure out if you want me in your life. And if you don't – well, figure out how you're going to disrupt Natalie with that one." He flicked his thumb at the menu, and smoothed it out. "I'm going to pick up dinner."

He put on clothes, and was gone so quickly she barely blinked. She sat down heavily, her shoulders sagging, exhausted from the fight. She rubbed her face, and for a moment, though wildly of running, of just being gone when he was back – but she couldn't do that again; she couldn't let that become her modus operandus. She owed him better than that.

She got up, trying not to succumb to tears, and she wiped at her nose, walking over to his bureau to find a t-shirt, and some boxers to put on - she hadn't brought pajamas with her, because this had been a last minute thing. Natalie was only supposed to be at London's for the day, but it turned into a sleepover, so Jenny had gone straight to Brent's from NCIS.

She rummaged through his drawer, and paused, gripping the edge of the oak. She drew her hand back as if she'd been burned, and then shoved aside a pair of socks, and pulled out the hard, smooth little box. She felt sick again; she felt awful, for how badly this had fallen apart – because she had an inkling that Brent couldn't take this much longer. She popped open the jewelry box, and when she saw the ring – she knew it was over.

* * *

On the day she graduated from California State University in Long Beach, Jenny couldn't help but think of how different it was from her faux high school graduation back in Stillwater. Then, she'd had a diploma holder in her hands that she never put a diploma in; she'd barely made the cut off to walk, and hours after carrying Natalie across the stage in an act of defiance, she'd been at the hospital for hours with Ann Gibbs.

Today, Natalie was much too big to be carried across the stage – though she was small enough to stand on a chair in the arena and wave. She was seated relatively high up – tickets were assigned and distributed by last name – and Jenny had seen vaguely that someone had an arm around Natalie's waist to make sure she didn't fall off the seat.

She'd stopped, after being handed her pseudo-diploma, and taken a moment to wave back – the importance of this moment was indescribable, and throughout the ceremony she'd sat in her chair, restless, toying with her tassel, waiting for the moment when she could switch its position, yank her hat off her head and into the air, and prove everyone wrong.

Even if none of them were here to see it, and most of them would probably never know.

She wondered if they ever whispered about her in Stillwater; she wondered if she was some kind of cautionary legend mothers told their daughters.

She grinned to herself as they stood, the ceremony ending with lots of fanfare – the world was changing, and even Stillwater's finest wouldn't be able to stop it one of these days.

Her hands shook as she bent to find her cap, tucking it under her arm and trying to be patient as her classmates filed out – here in the mass of people, she realized she wasn't the only nontraditional student, but since she'd worked nights and taken her classes during the day, while Natalie was in school, she'd mostly only been involved with the average college students.

Except Kate; but Kate, unfortunately, wasn't here today. She should have been back in April, but her tenure on the carrier had been extended.

Jenny slipped through the crowd and made her way to a place on the grassy green, separating herself from people and looking around. She knew her family was probably caught in a huge crowd trying to get out of the place, but she still expected –

"Mom!"

She whipped around; Natalie had darted away from them, and used her smallness to battle the people quickly but politely.

Jenny opened her arms, letting the cap fall to her feet, and Natalie flew into them, laughing. Jenny pushed her hair back and kissed her forehead, crouching down to hug her tightly on her level.

"I did it, Bug!" she cried softly, kissing Natalie's forehead again.

She cupped her cheek in her hand, and Natalie beamed, nodding.

"I'm next!" she said proudly.

Jenny nodded.

"You got that right," she agreed fiercely. "Where is it this week, hmm?"

"Oh," Natalie sighed, fluttering her lashes. "Harvard."

"All the way in Massachusetts?" Jenny feigned a tortured sigh. "I'll just have to move in with you, in your dorm."

"Mom," giggled Natalie.

"It'll be like a sleepover – pizza, movies – "

"Mom!" Natalie gasped, poking her. She wrinkled her nose. "You can't come to college with me!" She laughed, as if Jenny were seriously deluded. Jenny grinned, and pinched her ribs affectionately, tickling her.

"We'll see about that," she threatened.

She hugged her again, closing her eyes a moment. She took a second to take it in, the victory; the ability to say she had a college degree, she was going to have a stable job, and there was nothing wrong with her daughter – Natalie wasn't a delinquent, she was a wonder – although Jenny tried not to bank on that too much; nine wasn't fourteen, and they had years to go.

"I love you, Natalie Winter," Jenny murmured sincerely. She leaned back, holding Natalie's cheek lightly. "You inspire me."

Natalie tilted her head, blue eyes bright.

"Me?" she asked, brows going up. "But I have it easy!"

Jenny swallowed hard; it meant so much to hear her say that – she hoped she really felt that way, like it had always been easy, and together, and figured out.

"I'm glad you feel that way," she whispered, a catch in her voice.

Natalie grinned, and nodded.

"Where's Max and Melly?"

Natalie took a deep breath.

"Well, Max is just getting here," Natalie said conversationally. "He got reservations at a very nice place, with food like _lobster_ ," she said seriously.

Jenny's face fell a little.

"He wasn't here?" she asked.

There had been empty seats, of course; Brent was no longer involved in her life – beyond still being a friendly adult to Natalie – and Jenny hadn't been able to get tickets for Jackson and Kate, which didn't matter since Kate was still at sea – but three tickets had been easy; she couldn't believe it had just been her mother and Natalie.

She furrowed her brow.

"No, Nat, I saw him – I saw him holding you, when you stood up," she said, confused. "You mean he went to get the car."

Natalie shook her head.

"No, you didn't," she corrected.

She turned, searching, and then spotted something. She darted off, and Jenny straightened, watching her warily. Melanie approached and took her face in her hands.

"Brava, darling," she said, kissing both cheeks. "Jennifer Morgan Shepard, B.S.," she reflected. "You know, you're the first woman on both my side and your father's to have a college degree," she told her.

Jenny clasped her hand.

"I bet the old fashioned Shepards and Singers would have had no qualms about my reproductive adventures," she quipped.

"About the baby? My, my, no – babies and marriage young, that's how they did it," she laughed. "Now, the illegitimacy – "

"Illegitimate? Mom, what is this, the sixteenth century?" Jenny snorted. She let go of her hand, and folded her arms. "What's this about Max?" she asked. "I wanted him to be here."

"He's meeting us for lunch; he was taking care of that," Melanie said breezily. "Don't worry about him, he's perfectly content. We only had three tickets and it was pulling teeth to get a fourth, so he kindly bowed out."

Jenny pursed her lips.

"What are you talking about?"

She had a quick flash of fear that her mother had invited Brent in a wild attempt to repair the damage. Then she thought it might be Hetty. But before she could ask, or Melanie could answer, Natalie reappeared, veritably dragging someone with her.

" _Natalie_!" Jenny barked, glaring straight at her daughter instead of sizing up the man. "You can't go around picking up strange _men_ – who -?"

"It's been a few years, Jennifer, but I wouldn't call myself a stranger."

Jenny fell silent, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Natalie came to a stop, bounding over to Jenny and standing at her side smugly. She held Jenny's robe loosely, shaking it a little, and Jenny stared at the man in front of her – at the lines on his face, lines she herself had put there, with her childhood and teenage escapades – and at the proud stiffness in his shoulders, and the clean, familiar shape of his jaw.

Jasper Shepard's green eyes considered her intently; solemnly, and he gave her a genuine, approving little smile. His eyebrows went up slowly, archly, and he cleared his throat.

Still staring at him in disbelief – she'd never expected – it hadn't even occurred to her to invite him – all she could manage to say was:

"Daddy?"

He laughed gruffly.

"In the flesh."

She lunged forward, startling Natalie, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly – as if he'd risen from the dead. She hadn't known, until he was standing in front of her, looking pleased with her, looking less hostile and austere than she remembered, how badly she missed him; how much it meant to her to have him here today.

"Dad," she sobbed into his shoulder, unable to hold back tears. " _Dad_ ," she repeated gratefully.

He ran his hand over her back soothingly, and pressed a paternal kiss to the top of her head, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"'M proud of you, Jennifer," he said gruffly.

She looked up at him, and she knew that he really meant it – he _really_ meant it. She compressed her lips, and he nodded at her once, affirmatively, reinforcing his statement.

"Natalie has one hell of a role model in you," he said.

Jenny stepped back and wiped at her eyes, rubbing black mascara so it faded, hopefully not too smudged. She swallowed, laughing a little huskily, and tried to compose herself. She folded her arms tightly, and tilted her head.

"I – what are you doing here?" she asked shakily.

He turned, and nodded.

"Your mother called me," he said simply. "She thought you'd be too timid to send me an invite."

Jenny licked her lips.

"It's not timidity, Dad, it's," she broke off, shrugging her shoulders. "Intimidation, I don't know."

Her father clapped her shoulder gently, and gave her a serious look.

"I got over it, Jennifer," he said bluntly, lifting his shoulders. He glanced at Natalie, as if to gauge how much she could understand and to be careful what he said. He cleared his throat. "Losing you put a lot into perspective."

Jenny smiled at him, her eyes welling up.

"Don't do that again," Jasper said hastily, cracking a smile He nodded at Natalie. "She's beautiful," he complimented. "She looks like," he broke off immediately, and gave Jenny an apologetic glance, before swiftly changing gears. "She looks like the first female president of the United States."

Natalie beamed at him, preening. She hopped up and stood close to Jenny, looking up.

"Grandpa Jasper said he's staying for a visit," she said earnestly. "He's going to spend some time with me," she told Jenny.

Jenny put her arm around her. She looked between her parents.

"Really?" she asked. "How long?"

"Through the next week. Your birthday," he answered. "You're turning twenty-six," he said wryly.

Jenny rubbed Natalie's arm.

"Ah, yes, as Bugsy here is going to be ten," she agreed dryly. She looked down at Natalie. "Did you know about this? Did you keep this secret?" she asked.

Natalie grinned smugly. She motioned zipping her lips, and throwing away the key – then she opened her mouth and started talking again.

"I got to call him and ask," she bragged. "Melly asked if I wanted to – but she wouldn't let me call Grandpa Jack, and ask him, too," Natalie added solemnly.

Jenny looked up at Melanie quickly; Melanie nodded, a little bemused.

"That's nice that you thought of him," Jenny said, "but Grandpa Jack doesn't really leave Stillwater."

Natalie shrugged.

"Well, Grandpa _this one_ ," she said, pointing at Jasper, "said he'll come seem me more often, now."

"You can do that?" Jenny asked Jasper.

He nodded.

"I'm nearing retirement," he said gruffly.

"I thought you'd work forever," Jenny laughed.

"It's not optional retirement," he said, rolling his eyes. The police force forced it at a certain age. "Year, maybe two left," he said.

Natalie rose on her tiptoes.

"Maybe we can come see you, sometime," she said. "Then I can see my other Grandpa, and he won't have to leave Stillwater. Stillwater is an eerie name," Natalie decided. "It sounds like a swamp from a horror movie."

"It is," Jenny said, deadpan.

"Jennifer," her father admonished, glaring. He arched a brow. "You had plenty of fun in Stillwater."

"What kind of fun?" Natalie asked.

"Really, Dad?" Jenny griped. "Nothing, Nat, I just – oats, and sowing, and whatnot," she said, trying not to laugh at herself.

Melanie gave her a wild grin, and stepped forward.

"Moment of truth, Jas," she said, her voice soft and songlike. She turned, holding out her arm. "Jenny, would you do the honors?"

"Oh," Jenny said, as Max walked up. "Dad, this is – "

"Maxwell Danes, Major, U.S. Air Force," Jasper finished smoothly, shaking Max's hand firmly – Max had been promoted since he married Melanie, and it seemed Jasper still had his old ways of knowing everything about everyone.

Max smiled a little, an ever good-natured smile.

"You must be Jasper Shepard, Colonel, U.S. Army, retired," he returned smoothly.

 _Well played, Step-Dad_ , Jenny thought smugly.

Jasper looked at Melanie, a serious mien on his face.

"Melanie, the _Chair_ Force?" he asked, a smile twitching in his temple. "Did I teach you anything?"

"Only that she had nowhere to go but up from some gun-toting Jawa," Max retorted easily.

Melanie laughed, delighted.

"Inter-service rivalry; how adorable," she mused.

Max grinned, and Jasper folded his arms with a good-natured smirk. Jenny, too, knew the jabs were friendly; Melanie and Jasper had an amicable divorce, despite Jasper being unable to move on. From the way he looked at Melanie, Jenny could tell he still hadn't; she'd asked him once, when she was younger, why he'd never married anyone else, since Mom always had a boyfriend when Jenny visited, and he'd sighed quietly and said:

" _I'm a Shepard, Jennifer. We're loyal for life and we don't move on."_

She thought now that she should have taken those prophetic words a little more seriously.

"Jawas are from Star Wars," Natalie said suspiciously. She looked Jasper up and down. "You're too big to be a Jawa."

"It's a slang term for a desert soldier," Jenny said. "Grandpa's been to Saudi Arabia and Libya."

"Oh," Natalie murmured, still suspicious.

"If that bothers you, sweetheart, just call him a Jarhead," Melanie told her.

"No," Jenny said automatically. "Jarheads are Marines."

"Christ, Melanie."

"Jesus, Mel."

Melanie held up her hands, laughing.

"The real point is, the girls in this family have a penchant, clearly definable," she snorted. She pointed to herself: "Army, Air Force," she pointed to Jenny, "Marines," she turned to Natalie seriously. "Your options are Coast Guard or Navy. Or National Guard."

"NO."

Max and Jasper both rejected that notion immediately, and Jenny grabbed Natalie to her, pretending to protect her.

"Natalie, you can marry whoever you want."

"What if I don't want to get married?"

"Natalie, you can _not_ marry whoever you want."

Natalie laughed. She grasped at the dog tags at her throat, and tangled them in her hands, shrugging.

"Does NASA count as the military?" she asked. "I'm going to join NASA," she whispered.

"Turn it into the Space Force," Max said eagerly.

"The Space Army," Jasper said, glaring. "U.S. Galactic supremacy."

"You're both such men," Jenny griped. "No one needs to militarize space. _Don't_ militarize space, Natalie. I'm warning you."

Natalie laughed, and Melanie stepped forward, holding out her hands.

"Mini darling, why don't you and Captain and I go ahead to the restaurant, and let your Mom and her Dad catch up?" she suggested. Natalie still called Max Captain, even though he'd been promoted. It was better than having yet another "Grandpa" Insert-Name-Here.

Natalie looked up at Jenny for permission, and Jenny nodded. She shrugged off her robe and took her cap, and handed them to Melanie.

"Can you put these in your car? I'm roasting," she said. Then, she quickly took the cap back. "Wait – do you have a camera?" She knelt down next to Natalie, and placed the cap on her head, feeling nostalgic – she looked so smart and cute with that little black cap, and the last time she'd worn one, no one had taken a picture.

Natalie beamed, stroking the tassel, as Melanie found her camera and obligingly took a photo. Jenny kissed Natalie and was about to pass her off, when Natalie turned, keeping her hand on the hat, and looked at Jenny curiously.

"The last time you wore this kind of outfit, who was sick?" she asked, startling Jenny.

Jenny stared at her.

"Natalie…what?"

Natalie tapped the cap.

"It was purple," she remembered slowly. "You had the matching dress, the matriculation gown," she said – and Jenny thought she was just showing off, with that vocabulary, for her grandfather, "but we went to the hospital. Who was sick?"

Jenny was so…taken aback that Natalie suddenly remembered the Stillwater graduation, that she had no real time to think about what her answer should be. Maybe Jasper had triggered some latent Stillwater memories, or maybe Natalie was just old enough to think back hard on what was in her head now, but Jenny knew what she was talking about, and she had to answer honestly.

"Your grandmother," she said softly.

Ann, dying slowly; Gibbs fighting with his father, and then taking Natalie and storming down the hall, Jenny following in her graduation regalia. Things were so different now.

You remember that?" Jenny asked warily.

Natalie hesitated.

"No, no really," she said, fingering the tassel. "But – someone put a cap on my head then, too."

It had been Jethro. While they spent time with Ann, and Gibbs calmed down, he'd picked up the hat from a chair and put it on Natalie, just like she'd put his on Natalie the year before. He'd told his mother she couldn't go anywhere until she saw Natalie graduate college. He was going to make it happen.

Jenny nodded.

"Yes, he did," she said, without thinking.

Melanie reached forward and took Natalie's hand.

"Come on, love," she said astutely. "While we wait for Mom and Grandpa, I'll introduce you to a shrimp cocktail – Captain's treat," she bribed fancily.

Jenny let her take Natalie off with her, waving, and giving a thankful nod to her mother and stepfather. She stood up, touched her jaw lightly, and then looked at her father heavily, lifting her shoulders up and down as if to work out her muscles.

"Kids," she murmured. "They're astonishing creatures."

"Good memory," Jasper said neutrally. "You never remembered anything before you were seven."

He said it like he was grateful, and almost as a joke, and Jenny gave him a sharp, baleful glare.

"Yes, I _did_ ," she told him, shattering his illusion – she was twenty-six; it was time he knew she had not been some blissful innocent until _seven_.

"No, you didn't," he blustered. "You'd have mentioned – "

"Dad, I know _exactly_ what you're talking about," she interrupted pointedly.

He glared at her sheepishly.

"I just didn't know what I was seeing until I learned what sex was. Then I decided to pretend I had no memory of being five and walking in on you guys during a thunderstorm."

Jasper Shepard gave her long glare.

"But occasionally I've wondered why the door wasn't locked. During those long, sleepless nights when I'm dealing with my trauma."

"Cut it out, Jennifer."

"I probably got pregnant because I was scarred in some Freudian manner."

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin'," he threatened.

She laughed, high-pitched, startled. She hadn't heard him say that since she was little.

"Well, don't worry, Dad, no one would accuse me of traumatizing Natalie!"

She said it smugly, and he smiled, but she suddenly felt self-conscious; that wasn't true, was it? Her father had always had a harsh opinion of her decision to uproot Natalie, and Brent seemed to think that no matter what, she'd set up a situation where Natalie would feel some sort of loss or abandonment.

She cleared her throat, and smiled warily.

"So…how is Jackson, these days?"

Jasper shrugged heavily.

"We don't interact much," he said gruffly. "You'd never know we share a grandkid, except everyone in Stillwater knows," he said dryly. "He still runs the shop. He dates."

Jenny arched her brows tensely.

"I bet that goes over well," she said flippantly, thinking of Gibbs.

"I'm not sure Leroy is aware," Jasper said bluntly. "He's never set foot back in Stillwater since he found you gone."

Jenny smiled lightly.

"Well, neither have I."

Jasper nodded. He tucked his hands into his pockets, and said nothing else for a moment. He cleared his throat.

"Where's this – _Brent_ you've mentioned?" he asked finally.

Jenny shook her head with a small wince. She smiled sadly.

"FUBAR," she answered quietly. She lifted her shoulders. "It ended, oh, about a month ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jasper said generically, his eyes curious. "Natalie seemed to like him."

Jenny nodded – it was still a little bit of a sore subject. They were weaning Natalie gently; she saw less and less of Brent, and she'd been told he and Mommy were simply friends now, so there was no abrupt absence, but Jenny had overheard Natalie asking Melanie if Brent did something bad.

"He wanted to get married," Jenny revealed heavily.

Her father cracked a small smile.

"You and marriage, Jennifer," he drawled, a knowing lament; because he was one of the few who knew how the constant talk of marriage had been a significant impetus in catapulting her out of Stillwater.

"Well," she said delicately. "You can't marry someone when you see the ring he bought you, and you immediately picture someone _else_ giving it to you."

She laughed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her father seemed to want to say something, but he didn't put anything into words; he stood there stoically, the same perfect posture she remembered, looking distinguished even in casual clothing. She took a deep breath.

"We've got time to catch up," he said, straightening a bit. "Best catch up to the others at the restaurant," he added, holding out his arm to her gallantly.

Jenny brushed out some wrinkles on the skirt of her dress, and took his arm, clutching it tightly before she let him start moving. She held him in one spot, looking up at him and searching his eyes for a moment, looking for the old disappointment, the resentment, and heavy distaste she used to see flickering there. It was gone.

"Dad?" she began softly, her voice cracking. "It means a lot – I'm really glad you came," she said, swallowing hard.

He squeezed her fingers and leaned over, pulling her head towards him and kissing her temple gently. He just nodded, and she sensed he had more to say – but he was right; they had time to catch up later. If he was staying at a hotel, she was going to insist he stay with her instead – she had never thought she missed her father this much, missed how their relationship used to be, and while relief flooded her at having him here, having him seem so reconciled to what her life was, there was a nagging feeling if distress in the back of her mind, because Natalie didn't have this – and Jenny was at fault.

* * *

Jasper Shepard accepted a cold beer from his daughter, and set aside the pamphlet she'd given him as she sat down on the couch opposite him and curled her feet under her. She lifted her glass of wine in a toast, and he nodded, accepting it.

"You pay that much for her to go to school in the summer?" He asked, gesturing at the pamphlet.

"That's the one she _wanted_ to go to," Jenny said, pushing her hair back. "It's ten days, but its sleepaway the whole time – and it's not as science oriented as the one she went to at Berkeley, but it did have a Physics component, and she wants to learn Physics. She wants to learn a language, that's why she wants to go."

"But she's not at that one," Jasper noted.

"Well, she qualified, she passed the entrance exam, – but the ages are ten to thirteen, and to me that's a worrisome range…thirteen is such a vastly different age, and she's nine, so even though they were going to make an exception, it gave me pause," Jenny murmured. "Besides, the expense would have been a bitch, and it's in Palo Alto – that's four hours away, she'd be gone for over a week – no, I told her _no_ on that one, she's doing Girl Scout camp and playing soccer again instead." Jenny shrugged. "I just wanted you to see what she's interested in."

Jasper arched his brows.

"She take it okay?"

"I don't mention expenses to her, but she knows that I'm not denying her to be spiteful. She's enjoying camp. She likes soccer," Jenny said.

He hesitated, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Jennifer," he started. "If you ever need the money to send her to one of these things – "

"Dad, stop," she interrupted, holding up her hand.

"I wouldn't be opposed to furthering her education," he continued anyway.

"Dad," she said again. She shook her head in a warning. "You and me and money are never going to be entangled," she said simply. She paused wryly. "I'm surprised you don't think extravagances like this are _frivolous_ ," she said.

A little tightly, she quoted his favorite word from back in the day, and she saw his face cloud a bit. His brow furrowed, and he leaned back. He tapped his fingers roughly on the side of his beer bottle.

"This isn't frivolous," he said gruffly. "I would have sent you to this stuff, if Stillwater had it," he told her.

"Well, Stillwater didn't," she said curtly. "Dad, I was smart, but I was not Natalie smart. Natalie is a natural abnormality and I keep waiting for whatever fairy spell was cast on her at birth to end and allow her to morph into the half-criminal, rebellious nightmare from a broken home she should statistically be."

She said it with some amusement, some frank seriousness.

Jasper considered her intently.

"You're from a broken home," he pointed out.

Jenny arched her brows. She was surprised to hear him say it, and what surprised her even more was – she'd never thought about it that way. She'd never considered her home – _broken_. Then again, she'd been the only kid in Stillwater with divorced parents.

She shook her head.

"I – no, it's not the same," she said, countering him. "Nothing I ever did had anything to do with finding myself, or proving something to you, or getting Mom's attention – I knew where both of you were, I knew the status quo – well," she switched gears, "I went off to _find myself_ when I left Stillwater, but again, nothing to do with you and mom splitting up."

Jasper hesitated, and then leaned forward again.

"It occurred to me," he said, very seriously, very simply, "that you ran off because the only example you had was Melanie and I."

Jenny blinked at him. She pursed her lips. Her father cleared his throat, a heavy look in his eyes, like he was regretting something; like he'd been thinking a lot about this.

"When Melanie and I couldn't agree on what to do after I retired, we got divorced," he said roughly. "I took you to Stillwater, and she saw you in the summers. That was our solution. We didn't try it, Los Angeles or Stillwater. We quit."

Jenny shook her head, suddenly realizing where he was going.

"No," she said firmly. " _No_. I was – eleven, twelve? – when you got divorced. They let me have input on custody. And you – you guys were fighting a lot; I was glad the fighting would be over. Dad," she said, parting her lips and pursing them curiously. "I don't know what you're trying to talk to me about – this is ancient history – and you know, I did have examples in Stillwater," she added, edgily. "I had Jackson and Ann. Ann was a saint of a woman, but she was not blissfully happy. You and Mom were happy."

"I wasn't _happy_ without your mother, Jenny," he said quietly. "I wasn't _happy_ that I took you away. She was content with just summers, but I thought we needed more – "

"Dad, even at that age, I said I'd live with you because we both knew mom would – well, she wouldn't neglect me, but she wouldn't take care of me!" she laughed. "I saw that with Natalie – she's not harmful, but she's carefree, and she's always up for a good time! I didn't know how I was going to grow up, and start thinking, I didn't know I'd end up hating Stillwater. I met Jethro there. I wouldn't change that for the world."

She took a long drink of wine, confused about this conversation, unsure of where it was going. He looked at her, and then he set his drink aside and clasped his hands, pressing them hard under his chin. He studied her reluctantly for a moment.

"What's going on with you and Leroy, Jennifer?"

She tensed immediately, a thousand walls going up. Her eyes narrowed defensively.

"Is that where all this philosophy was going?" she hissed. "Spare me the pleasantries, Daddy, you should have just – " she broke off, and sat forward, pushing her hair back. "What do you mean?" she asked, exasperated. "He's not – I don't even know where he is."

Jasper looked frustrated, but calm.

"I know that," he said shortly. "I know. I want to know why Leroy's not – involved, he's not doing a damn thing," Jasper said, unexpectedly. "When you left – when you left, you remember, I told you I'd help him sue for custody if he wanted – you predicted he wouldn't," he recounted. "That's not the kid I remember, Jennifer. I know I didn't give a damn about him back then, I couldn't see past the mess you got yourselves into, but he paid child support like clockwork, he worked his ass off, he was a real father to Natalie." Jasper spread out his hands, his brow darkening. "What the hell happened?"

Jenny put her wine aside, and folded her arms protectively over herself. She looked away; she glanced behind her, down the hall at Natalie's closed bedroom door. Her daughter was fast asleep; it was an hour past her bedtime.

She took a slow, deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"It just didn't work out," she said vaguely.

"That's not good enough."

She looked at him sharply.

"This is so far out of the realm of your business," she warned icily. She swallowed, and leaned forward. "The way people are, when they're nineteen, and there are grudges, and hormones, and dramatics involved, are incomprehensible. Unfortunately, both of our actions when we were younger set a framework for how things are today."

"That's a lot of fancy talk for little clarity," Jasper said.

She grit her teeth.

"He used to call. He'd send packages. He'd _call_. He came to see her, once, when he was sent to sniper school at Pendleton. But I," she paused, remembering that day on the beach. "She didn't know him. She was timid. Sweet, and polite, Natalie always is, but I could tell it startled her. I was worried he'd just confuse or scare her, showing up out of the blue. He didn't try to see her again." She related the bones of the history, her voice clipped. "He called before he deployed to Kuwait," she said, "After that – nada."

Jasper looked at her intently, and she nodded.

"He stopped calling, he stopped sending packages – I didn't know if he was dead or alive, until I finally broke down and begged Jackson to tell me. It was total radio silence. Until last summer."

She watched her father's reaction; he just listened, his jaw tight.

"He showed up –tells me he's going to Quantico. I didn't take Natalie to see him. He wanted to – to establish some sort of defined relationship and I just – I told him no."

"You told him no," repeated Jasper neutrally.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?" she snapped, harsh and defense. She flexed her hand. "He came out of nowhere, like he was in some twelve-step program! And right before he flits off to – to fucking _Quantico_ , which is on the east coast."

She stood up, shaking her head.

"I have made mistakes, Dad, I have made plenty of mistakes, but he made mistakes, too. And Natalie is not going to pay for them."

"Don't you think she's paying for them already?" Jasper asked.

"Why are you bringing this up?" snapped Jenny, exasperated. She tried to keep her voice down. "Don't tell me the reason you really came here is to hound me again for what I did seven years ago! I thought you _got over it_ ," she quoted, sarcastically wiggling her fingers in the air. "After all these years, you're still Team Leroy, Camp Leroy, pleading his case to Jenny the Hag, Jennifer, the Bitch of Small Towns Past – "

"Jennifer," Her father barked sternly, calm but commanding. "You sound ridiculous."

"So do you!" she retorted. "So do you, unburying things that I've been trying to move past – "

"Calm down," he stood up, reaching for her gently. "Calm down, Jenny." He looked at her until she relaxed a little, and then he sat back down, gesturing for her to do the same. "This isn't about sides," he said quietly. "It's just about me trying to understand why Leroy is a complete myth to his daughter."

Jasper paused. He looked down, and swallowed hard. He lifted his shoulders, and when he looked up at her, he looked dejected; regretful.

"I know what it's like to miss your daughter, Jennifer," he said hoarsely. His jaw tightened. "I had more faith in that young man than this. He was inconsolable, when he found out you were gone."

Jenny's eyes welled up.

"I _know_ he was, Dad," she said softly. "I had this – senseless delusion that it would all work out – but I told you, we were nineteen, and he was so angry. Nothing was going to overcome anger like that, at that age – and _nothing_ was going to overcome my selfishness, and my fears. I'm not unhappy with my life here; I'm not miserable. I'm afraid of what would have been if I'd stayed."

Jasper nodded. He studied her a moment.

"Yet you stood right in front of me, and told me that you couldn't marry this Brent of yours because you still love Leroy."

She sighed, putting her head in her hands for a moment.

"I didn't leave because I didn't love him. It doesn't matter how many times I say that, no one gets it – him most of all. There's a fundamental disconnect plaguing my entire _life_ when it comes to that – I wanted everything. I wanted college, and travel, and freedom, and a good life for Natalie, and Gibbs, and I got everything but Gibbs. I don't regret leaving Stillwater, but I – "

She stopped talking, and she looked at her father. She shook her head slowly.

"No," She said, with abrupt finality. "I'm sorry Dad; I'm not going to talk about this anymore. I spend my _life_ trying not to dwell on this." She licked her lips, and ran her hands over her knees rapidly, focusing on the friction for a moment. "If there's anything you need to get off your chest, please say it now."

Jasper braced his elbows on his knees. He looked down for a long time, and then looked back at her, his face unreadable; suddenly he looked old, older than she remembered. His face was lined with worry and wrinkles; his hands were stiff, as if tired of the same thing, day in and day out. He sighed thoughtfully.

"I think you needed to be here," he said gruffly. It wasn't at all what she expected; her lips parted. "I think Natalie needed to be here," he went on firmly. He gestured curtly around him. "This life you've built for yourself – her accomplishments, your degree, your job," he nodded swiftly. "When you left, and you fed me all that crap about needing to be out here to make it all work, I blew it off. I thought you were nineteen, and you ran to the parent who'd let you have it easy. I was wrong. You needed to be here."

She compressed her lips. This couldn't be real; there had to be a _but_ – there had to be something. But as the silent dragged on, she could see that there wasn't – he just looked sad; slightly empathetic. Something in her chest throbbed when she thought of his words – it was empathy he was feeling for Gibbs; his own absence from his daughter's life had been partially self-imposed, once she left and he refused to see her or speak with her, but he was worried Gibbs' was involuntary.

She suddenly put her hand over her mouth and started to cry, squeezing her eye shut.

"It keeps me up at night sometimes," she confessed painfully. "I miss him so much, and I don't even know who I'm missing anymore. I don't know him, who he is today. I miss sneaking out to the old bridge with him and I miss the days when it was us, and Natalie, against the world, and I am – this foolish fantasy I had of him leaving the Marines to come get me _shattered_ , and sometimes I'm bitter that he didn't try harder – "

Jasper leaned forward and put his arms around her solemnly, pressing his palm to the back of her head. He took a deep breath, squeezing her arm.

"You don't leave people if you expect them to come after you, Jennifer."

"I know," she sobbed.

"You don't test them like that."

"I know."

But nineteen hadn't thought that way.

"I'm proud of what I've given Natalie here, and I'm proud of my life, but this one thing is always going to hang over my head, and one day, she's going to go find him, and God – who knows what he'll tell her."

Jasper pulled back, shaking his head grimly.

"You can count on it not making a difference," he promised. "Jennifer, she's been with you her whole life. She loves you, respects you, needs you. And I have a feeling – Leroy's the type who would die from the poison inside him before he'd spill it into her ears."

Jenny wiped her eyes, and laughed a little.

"That's poetic," she choked. "How – how do you know?"

"Because that boy hated how I treated you. And he hates his father," Jasper said seriously. "But Natalie never heard a nasty word about either of us."

Jenny nodded – that was true. Gibbs used to be amused when Natalie bit Jackson, or pulled some stunt on Jasper, but to her, he never said a negative word; he let them see her, let them love her, kept his animosity to himself.

She wiped her eyes again, and steadied herself.

"I might not have been so harsh, so quick to cut him out for good, this last time," she said warily. "but I just – I didn't understand his motives. I don't think they were sinister. But I don't think they came from him."

She could see a questioning look in her father's eyes, but she didn't elaborate. She just had the feeling someone had pushed Gibbs to reach out that day, and she didn't like that – she didn't know what that would have gotten them into.

"She never asks about him," Jenny said quietly. "We never go there."

Jasper nodded. He set his shoulders back, and gave her shoulder another squeeze, and then he got up.

"You up for that leftover cheesecake?" he asked, clearly exhausted from the night's emotional turn.

She laughed hoarsely and got up, following him.

"Yeah, I'll get the whipped cream," she agreed, reaching past him to the cabinet.

She wiped her face a few more times, and took some deep breaths, trying to organize and lock away all that had been said and discussed tonight – lock it away with all the other times she'd cried about Gibbs, and her past, and her guilt, and her fear of the future.

She'd love to go one year without beating herself up about it; without some reminder or accusation that threatened the foundation of the life she'd constructed without Gibbs. She had the sudden wild urge to find out where he was now, to call him, and say she'd changed her mind, he could see Natalie, she was sorry –

But she grit her teeth, and steeled herself against that impulse. Somewhere deep down, she knew her reluctance was frightfully self-centered; she was afraid of her feelings for him, afraid of his feelings for her, and she didn't ever want to face that – one day, she'd really admit to herself that it wasn't Natalie she was protecting, it was herself – Natalie was probably strong and smart enough to handle this; Jenny wasn't.

She didn't admit that to herself today. She just ignored the nasty thought.

The doorbell buzzed, and Jenny looked incredulously at the clock.

"Hmm," Jasper murmured, glaring at the time – it was nearing midnight.

Jenny went to the door, with her father on her heels.

"Dad, it's not a murderer," she said, waving him off.

"How do you know?"

"Uh, 'cause he rang the doorbell," she retorted smartly.

Her father still followed close on her heels, protective. She looked through the peephole, and quickly opened the door, before Jasper knew what had happened.

"Jackson!" she exclaimed. Her heart skipped a few beats; he stood there looking lost, distraught, and red-eyed. He swallowed, and leaned one hand on the door.

"Jenny, can I come in? I'm sorry it's so late – can I come in?"

She stared a moment, and then nodded, grabbing him gently.

"Jackson, what's wrong?" she demanded, shutting the door behind him. She looked at his pale face, and she clutched him tighter. "Is Kate okay?"

She didn't want to hear the answer, though; she assumed Kate's fiancé standing in her living room near midnight, in this kind of distress, was not a good sign. He swallowed, and shook his head, turning to her desperately.

"Kate. Kate, she went missing on port liberty, in Egypt," he managed, his voice constricted.

"What do you mean, she went missing?"

"They can't find her! She – she's been gone a month, and NCIS – they just told me, they showed up, knocking on my door…she's _gone_ , Jen, she disappeared."

Jenny stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Jasper looked between them, and cleared his throat.

"Here – Son, let's go in the living room, let's take a seat," he said firmly, taking Jackson's other arm.

Jenny let him take Jackson away from her, and he started to usher Jackson into the living room. She turned, about to follow, and stopped short – because of course, Natalie was standing in the doorway; some commotion must have woken her up – either the knocking, or Jenny and Jasper fighting.

"Bug," she said, smiling brightly – it was fake, but she hoped it looked comforting.

"What's going on?" Natalie asked, her voice thick with sleep.

Jenny strode over and took her gently.

"Dad," she said. "I'm putting her back to bed," she told him firmly. "Come on, Bug, someone's just upset – we'll talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Natalie allowed herself to be pushed, rubbing her eyes. She let Jenny coax her back into her bed, and she rolled onto her side, blinking tiredly. She looked at jenny, her eyes wide, and she scrunched herself up, snuggling under the covers.

"Is it about my – Daddy?" she asked warily; concerned and confused.

Jenny shook her head, too distracted to deal with it. She needed to hear what Jackson had to say.

"No, honey," she soothed truthfully, kissing Natalie's forehead. "It's not about Daddy," she assured her. "Go back to sleep." She kissed her again, and slipped out, shutting the door firmly.

Her father met her in the hall, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"This guy's drunk," he warned her bluntly. "I think he drove here."

"Shit," Jenny swore under her breath. "Did he say anything else?"

"He keeps repeating that he knew something was wrong. Jen, was this Kate a friend of yours?"

Jenny looked at her father with worried eyes, biting her lip until it hurt too much to bear. She nodded shakily, her throat constricted.

"She's my best friend," she said.

Present tense, present tense, she made herself use present tense – missing for a month wasn't good, but it was missing; missing wasn't dead.

She took a moment to lean against the wall, putting her forehead in her palm for a moment – she wasn't prepared to lose anyone, but she was paralyzed with fear over talking to Natalie about this – she spent her whole life stressing about abstract trauma that might come to her daughter over Gibbs, over Brent, over things that she probably worried too much about, and here was something real, something tangible and immediate, that might be the first truly tragic thing in Natalie's life.

* * *

"And sometimes you close your eyes  
and see the place where you used to live  
When you were young."  
-When you Were Young; The Killers

* * *

 _-alexandra_


	5. Be Still

_a/n: you get some major tease on what Gibbs has been up to in this chapter ... and yes, I'm working on part 3 diligently._

* * *

Los Angeles & San Diego, California / Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1995-1996

Be Still

* * *

The investigation into Kate Todd's disappearance took months. Despite her year as an NCIS intern, and her subsequent entrance as a full-time employee, it was Jenny's first real experience with how complicated, grueling, sinister, and exhausting major crime cases could be. Once the shock of the disappearance had worn off, and time passed, it became a routine part of life, to know that Kate was missing, to ask every other day or so _'Any news?'_ – only to hear _'No, nothing'_ – from either Jackson St. James, or Kate's mother, or Hetty Lange.

Nine months after she disappeared, her body was found and identified in Egypt. By the time Egyptian authorities had done their own stubborn investigation and been satisfied, NCIS was on the verge of unraveling the case and closing it: by the time they buried Kate in Indiana, her body sent home at her family's request, it was all but over.

Jenny couldn't afford to be in Indiana for very long; plane tickets were expensive, and she didn't want to stay and dwell, anyhow - she didn't want Natalie to have to stay and suffer through her own grief as well as everyone else's. She bought them round trip tickets for the same day; and the ceremony felt surreal.

It was a full Catholic mass, full of Kate's family, and none of them knew Jenny – though they'd heard about her and Natalie. She felt alone, and it felt like it wasn't really happening; it had been so long since she'd last seen Kate, so long since she'd gone missing, that even though the knowledge that she was probably dead had always hung in the air, the reality was crushing.

When they returned to California that evening, it was still light outside – the time change had given them a few hours back – and Jenny had the cab from the airport drop them off a mile from the condo, so they could walk in the sun a little.

She had her arm draped around Natalie protectively, soothingly. She kept looking down at her, checking on her – Natalie had never been to a funeral before, and she'd never given up hope that Kate was coming back. Jenny knew this was hard for her – but Jenny herself had never lost a best friend, someone her age like this, and she almost didn't know what to say.

"How you holdin' up, Bug?" she asked softly, squeezing her gently.

Natalie shrugged and looked up. Her eyes were persistently wet, but Natalie hadn't cried at the funeral; Natalie wasn't a crier. She tossed her hair back and leaned into Jenny's side heavily. She didn't say anything for a moment.

"I feel bad for Kate's Mom," she said finally, her lips pursed sympathetically.

Jenny nodded, her breath catching – she couldn't _imagine_ what Mrs. Todd must be going through. She didn't want to imagine it; the very possibility of something happening to Natalie made her sick.

Jenny stroked her hair.

"You can stay home from school for a few days if you want," she said quietly. "You won't miss anything. You're always ahead."

Natalie shrugged.

"I want to go to school."

"Traveling will have made you more tired than you think."

"I don't want to stay home," she insisted stubbornly. She sighed, and folded her arms, still cleaving close to Jenny. "I want to go to school."

Jenny just nodded, dropping the topic. She thought Natalie needed the break, but then again, Jenny herself wasn't going to take time off NCIS; she wanted to be at work, trying to get past this; Natalie probably felt that, too.

"I don't understand why Jackson wasn't there," Natalie said, her brow furrowed. "I thought he loved Kate."

"Sometimes these things are hard for people," Jenny said warily. "Too hard." She looked up for a moment. "I don't think Jackson wanted to see her put in the ground."

"Why didn't we get to see her?" Natalie asked. "On TV, you see. You say goodbye."

Jenny hesitated. She chewed the inside of her lip – there hadn't been a possibility of an open casket. Kate's body had been mummified, taken by opportunists who trussed up modern bodies and mimicked old methods to sell them to tourists as ancient kings and queens. It had been a clever way to try and make the murder disappear without a trace, but it had failed, ultimately.

"You didn't want to see her, Natalie."

"Yes, I did," she insisted sharply. "I wanted to say goodbye. I wouldn't have been afraid. It wouldn't have traumatized me."

"You want to remember her how she was," Jenny said firmly. She caught her daughter's eye seriously. "Believe me, Natalie, please," she said softly.

Natalie stopped walking. She stood still, and Jenny stopped, too, turning to her. Her eyes filled with tears, and this time they fell, slowly.

"I forgot what she looked like," she said desperately. "I wanted to see her."

Jenny swallowed hard, watching her helplessly. She pulled her to the side gently, out of the way of people, and crouched down, touching her face. She licked her lips, and then looked to see how far the condo was – not far; they'd made good distance, good time. She wiped some of the tears.

"I know, Bug," she said. "I know – look, I've got some pictures at home, pictures of Kate, pictures of you and Kate," she said. "How about a piggy back ride?" she asked bravely. "You can hold on to me. If you want to cry, you can hide your face in my hair. But no one cares if you're crying."

Natalie licked her lips, looking down at her feet, hiding her face.

"I'm too heavy," she said hoarsely.

Jenny hadn't carried her in years; Jenny had put her down one day when she was five or maybe six, and she'd never picked her up again. Natalie wasn't a little waif, she wasn't tiny as a feather, but she wasn't big for her age, either, and Jenny had every confidence that she could carry her if she needed to.

She shook her head.

"I can carry you," she promised seriously. "How do you think you got here, darling? Nine months, babe. Nine months."

Natalie smiled at her a little. She nodded. Jenny turned, and let Natalie climb up on her back, hooking her legs over Jenny's arms. Jenny braced herself, and stood up, giving a little jump as she made sure Natalie was tightly secure.

"Am I choking you?" Natalie asked worriedly.

Jenny shook her head.

"Never. Ooh, something's chilly."

Natalie picked up her dog tags and removed them from Jenny's neck.

"You better not have put those in your mouth," Jenny warned tiredly – she was so used to reminding her not to suck or chew on those damn things, she did it automatically, and she wondered why she hadn't taken them away years ago.

The dog tags hit the back of her neck again. They were wet. She smiled wryly, and shook her head, walking as briskly as she could down the sidewalk. Natalie was heavy, but she didn't want her to know that.

Carrying Natalie was a lot less burdensome than the sadness and heartache of losing Kate.

The only thing to look forward to right now was moving on; knowing that this was finally coming to an end – Kate could rest in peace, maybe – maybe. There was still one loose end –

On the steps to her complex, there sat a man in a casual suit, a federal look to his posture and the squint of his eyes in the sun. Even as she approached, before he reached for his badge, she knew he was NCIS; she was used to it – endless questions, endless reference checks; she swore she'd met everyone in the agency, since the Kate Todd uproar.

She stopped, and he stood.

"Jennifer Shepard?"

She nodded, loosening her grip on Natalie. Natalie slid down steadily, standing behind her mother warily. She eyed the badge in the man's hand; he flipped it open, and showed his identification.

"Special Agent Mike Franks," he said. He had a gravelly, deep voice; he sounded like someone who had been on this job way too long. He held out his hand, and she sighed, looking at it dully. "I spoke with your mother. She told me when you'd be back."

Jenny still stared at the outstretched hand. Finally, she took it.

"Agent Franks," she said heavily. "We've just come from a funeral."

He nodded once.

"Petty Officer Todd," he said gruffly. "I know." He let go of her hand, and turned, picking up a box he had with him, and a file. He cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"

Jenny looked at him critically; stiffly.

"It was a six hour flight," she said heavily.

"I'm from the Washington field office, Ma'am," he said. He was apologetic, but stern; she sensed he wanted it to be now.

She considered him for another protective moment, and then she nodded, her shoulders sagging a little.

"You will wait until I get my daughter settled," she said.

He didn't argue. She took Natalie's hand, and steered her towards the condo. Natalie kept her eyes silently on Agent Franks as they headed up to Jenny's condo, even turning her head to keep them in sight.

"Have a seat in the kitchen," Jenny said shortly, gesturing, as she let them in. "Come on, Natalie," she said, taking her down the hall to the master bedroom.

She tried not to think too hard about the agent in the kitchen, about what he might want. It was all over now – Jenny had answered every question she could _months_ ago, back when they wouldn't tell her anything – back when it was all classified. Most of it was still classified, but Jenny knew the general specifics.

She let Natalie climb into her bed, and she sat next to her.

"You can watch TV, or read, or take a bath," she said shakily, pushing her hair back. "Let Mommy talk to this Agent for a little bit," she requested. "Then we'll…we'll do _something_ ," she promised, trying to keep her voice steady. "We'll do something to feel better."

Natalie nodded, and curled up, reaching for the television remote.

"I don't think we'll feel better for a while, Mom," she said quietly; perceptively.

Jenny bent to kiss her, and nodded, lingering with her forehead against Natalie's for a moment before slipping out, leaving the door cracked just in case, and taking a deep breath in the hall before she braved the kitchen, to see what this Navy Yard agent wanted with her.

"Coffee, Agent Franks?" she asked. She put a kettle on the stove for some tea for herself and Natalie. "You don't strike me as a tea-drinking kinda guy."

"I enjoy a good Darjeeling," Franks said, deadpan. "I won't trouble you, Mrs. Shepard. This won't take long."

She nodded, still getting two cups out. Natalie would do well with a cup of chamomile or something. She turned and leaned against the counter.

"It's Miss," she said dully. "I'm not married." She stood in the kitchen a moment, and then came forward, sitting down at the little table – it only had two chairs, and it was small, and quaint. She and Natalie at dinner together at it every night. They never turned the television on while they ate.

She looked at him tiredly.

"I thought this investigation was over."

"Just tying up loose ends," he said gruffly.

She arched a brow.

"All the way from Washington, Agent Franks? Couldn't you have sent a lackey?"

He smirked at her, and took out a folder.

"You're a sharp lady."

She leaned forward, resting her weight on her arms. She gestured at her hair, and then at her ears.

"Eyes in the back of my head; a sixth sense when it comes to lies and omissions," she said smoothly. "Motherhood is very similar to investigation, _sir_."

"I'll remember that," he said, with a rattling laugh – smoker's laugh; he had smoker's teeth, too. He cleared his throat, and he pushed aside his badge, opening his file. "What's your clearance level, Miss Shepard?"

"Top Secret."

He nodded. He hesitated, looking at his things.

"I'm here first and foremost to deliver some of Kate Todd's effects," he said gruffly. "A box of things in her bunk on the carrier was labeled with your daughter's name."

Jenny glanced at the box he had with him, and he nodded. He folded his arms. He pulled a photograph out of the file in front of him, and tapped it. He watched her carefully.

"Do you know who this is?"

She didn't look for a moment, and when she did, she barely needed to study it.

"Yes," she said curtly.

"Identify him."

"Pedro Hernandez," she said, her tone clipped. "He murdered Kate."

Pedro Hernandez was a contract killer for a Mexican drug cartel. He had been hired to kill Kate in the midst of a serious intelligence entanglement that went wrong; it had taken months to locate him – Jenny had only recently learned the name and the face of the man who had done it.

"Do you know where he is?"

Jenny shook her head slowly.

"I wouldn't be sitting here on my ass if I did, Agent Franks," she said sharply. "The last I heard, he was caught by Interpol in one of the former Soviet states, awaiting extradition." She hesitated stiffly. "And I only found that out weeks after the fact, once the classifications were loosened."

Franks stared at her, and then he pulled the photo back, nodding.

"He was extradited," he said finally. "To Mexico."

" _What_?"

"The former Czech Republic – "

"The what?"

Franks looked at her balefully, and she blinked.

"It's the Czech Republic," Jenny said seriously. "It was _formerly_ Czechoslovakia."

He glared at her, and then cleared his throat.

"The Czech Republic gave him to Mexico based on his citizenship. Mexico will not extradite to us. This information was kept close to the vest while NCIS counterintelligence and the FBI tried to negotiate a deal with the _Federales,"_ Franks hesitated sharply, "and it seems we have a leak in our midst."

Jenny leaned back, folding her arms. She gave him a cool look.

"A leak?"

Franks considered her a moment, and leaned forward.

"Do you know where Petty Officer Todd's fiancé is, Miss Shepard?" he asked mildly, switching directions. "Jackson St. James."

Jenny shrugged.

"No."

"Are you aware you are the last person to be seen with him?"

"I last saw him at LAX, when my daughter and I flew to Indianapolis," Jenny said bluntly. "He was on the flight after us."

"He didn't fly to Indianapolis, Miss Shepard," Franks said. "He flew to Mexico City. Then he disappeared."

Jenny showed no reaction. She simply looked at Mike Franks, wondering what he was asking – was he asking her if she'd told Jackson where Kate's killer was hiding out? She didn't know that information – he had just told her, right here that Pedro Hernandez wasn't going to be extradited from Mexico. She'd thought he was still in Prague.

She didn't say anything – then, she shrugged.

"I do not mishandle classified information," she said firmly. "If Jackson learned something from someone at NCIS, I'm sure it was an accident."

Franks took a long moment to swallow that answer, and then nodded. A corner of his mouth turned up, and Jenny could almost swear he liked hearing that answer; it was like he was forced to investigate a classified leak, when he didn't give a damn what Jackson was doing.

Jenny knew Jackson hadn't gone to the funeral; she didn't know he'd gone to Mexico. She knew he'd met with Hetty a day before Kate's body was returned to the United States. There was enough there to let her figure out what might have happened.

She hoped Jackson got out clean. She hoped he found some peace. Losing Kate had destroyed him.

Jenny leaned forward, listening to the kettle shake a little as it heated up.

"Pedro Hernandez was just the cat's paw," she said roughly.

The man who'd really been behind it all – behind the whole sordid affair – had been Ari Haswari, an intelligence officer and linguist Kate worked with while on the carrier.

She went to the carrier because she was assisting in tracking a drug trafficking case, uncovering how the Mexican cartels were getting their goods onto Navy ships. Haswari, an Israeli Arab who'd joined the U.S. military as an alleged path to citizenship and escape from his part of the world, had been on her investigative team.

She had ultimately discovered that drugs weren't the root problem; the root problem was an intelligence nightmare. Haswari had been working with the Mexican cartels to run their drugs; he took a major payday from it, and funneled the money directly to the Palestinian terrorist group, Hamas. In the end, it would have made it look like the Navy was secretly funding Hamas; Haswari had needed Kate dead once she discovered what was going on. He'd then framed her for selling intelligence to American enemies.

It had taken months for NCIS to figure out the real threat, and by then Haswari was gone. He'd been gone, for months, with stolen classified documents, and blood on his hands.

"You can put your mind to rest about that, Miss Shepard," Franks said coolly. He opened his file again and showed her a picture of the man – this sinister, cat-like man who'd orchestrated one of the greatest threats to U.S. security this decade. "Ari Haswari has been apprehended. He was secured in Guantanamo Bay last week."

Jenny's eyes widened slightly, and she sat forward, her lips parting.

"You got him? You got the bastard?"

"Bad guys always make fatal mistakes," Franks said grimly. "Sometimes it takes years. This one only took months."

Jenny closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging – she felt like it was over, really over; even since they'd found out the name of the man who killed Kate, it had felt like it would never end, with this former Petty Officer Haswari on the loose, this elusive snake of a man. She swallowed hard.

"Did you recover the classified - ?"

"No," Franks said shortly. "But we've been able to deal with the damage," he said dryly.

He cleared his throat, and looked at her thoughtfully.

"If you find out anything about Jackson St. James in Mexico, Petty Officer Todd's fiancé, would you let me know?"

Jenny gave him a wry look.

"No."

Franks nodded.

"I'll note that you said _yes_ ," he said seriously, and she swore she saw that small, wry smile again. He turned, and slid the box towards her, and gave her a form. "I'll need you to sign for receipt of this – it's been in evidence," he said.

Jenny leaned forward, and swept her name onto the sheet without reading it. It was standard form, and she gave it back quickly, pulling the box towards her. The kettle screamed, and she got up, fixing two cups of tea.

The chairs scraped as Franks moved them, standing up. He cleared his throat again, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He smacked them against his palm, and inclined his head.

"I'll be gettin' out of your hair," he said, gravelly voice quiet.

"Agent Franks," she said, turning around. She set the teakettle down loudly, and leaned on the counter. "How did you catch the bastard?"

Franks considered her a moment, and rested an unlit cigarette in his lip. He smirked, and tucked his cigarettes away. He searched for a lighter.

"His half-sister is Israeli," Franks grunted. "Israeli Jew, not Israeli Arab. Kate Todd knew her – it's difficult to remember Kate was very close to this turn cloak. Haswari went home to Beer Sheba, to see his mother. He visited his sisters. The sister found Kate's dog tag in his bag, along with extremely incriminating documents…she found out he was working for Hamas." Franks snorted, and shook his head. "This little girl, her life is threatened every single day by this group of terrorists, and she finds out her big brother is their procurer, is giving them money. Her father's Mossad, but he lives in a different part of Israel – so this kid calls up Daddy, and finds a way to stall Haswari, keep 'im in the house…and Mossad handed him to us."

"For a price, I assume," Jenny murmured softly – Mossad would have wanted to keep the intelligence; she was sure Mossad would have wanted something.

Franks shrugged.

"We still don't know what they did to him first," he growled, unconcerned. "We pass anything we get out of him from this point on directly to Mossad. They get a crack at 'im whenever they want."

Jenny picked up the teakettle again, and then sat it down, swallowing hard.

"Brave," she said quietly. "What a crisis of conscience, your own brother – turning him over."

"I'll say," Franks drawled, finally finding his lighter. He flicked it a couple times, and narrowed his eyes at Jenny. "The girl's only thirteen."

Jenny looked at him with wide eyes.

"Isn't she in danger?"

Surely Hamas would be after them - -surely Hamas would know who their operative's family was, and who to hunt once he was in the hands of American authorities.

"Don't worry your head, Miss Shepard," Franks said coolly. "The CIA has the David family covered."

Jenny nodded, and looked down. She suddenly felt so tired; she didn't think she could lift the kettle again. She felt like crying – with relief, with sadness. It was over. Kate's name was cleared, her villains were taken care of - it was _over_.

"I'll see myself out, Ma'am," Franks drawled. He tucked his badge away, and grabbed up his file. "Don't let them put you to waste in this Los Angeles hellhole," he said pointedly.

Jenny gave him a small smile.

"Agent Franks," she said, as he was leaving. He stopped, and she winked at him shortly. "Don't light that cigarette in my house."

He smirked, and nodded respectfully. She watched him leave, and then forced herself to finish fixing the tea. She hadn't told him that she was being transferred to the San Diego office – she didn't know when it was going to come through, so she hadn't looked into moving yet, but she was definitely up for a promotion to the west coast headquarters. They were counting her internship as time served towards advancement.

She was squeezing in some lemon when Natalie came into the room, her long hair haphazardly tangled into a braid. She approached the table, her eyes on the box, and Jenny came over with the little teacups.

"Aren't you tired, Bug?" Jenny asked gently, sitting down.

Natalie looked at her, and nodded.

"I can't sleep. Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Jenny didn't feel like arguing. She nodded, and sat down, pulling a chair close to her.

"What's this?" Natalie asked, sitting in the chair, and leaning towards Jenny.

"It's a box of Kate's things," Jenny said softly. "You want to sort through it with me? It might make us feel better."

Natalie reached for the box, and picked up the first thing that she saw – a thin, delicate golden crucifix necklace; Kate had always worn it, she said her father gave it to her on the day of her confirmation. Natalie clutched it, and burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jenny said, turning to her and pulling her close. She closed her eyes rightly, and rested her cheek on Natalie's head, pressing her close enough that maybe, just maybe, she could absorb all the pain for her, and keep it inside herself.

She ran her hand over Natalie's hair, and up and down her back soothingly. Natalie shifted, and crawled into her lap, making her nine-year-old self as small as possible. And Jenny just held her, keeping her own tears at bay, because she'd learned long ago that being a parent was all about having it together when you felt like an absolute wreck.

* * *

Natalie's room, in the quaint little duplex Jenny had found in San Diego, was much bigger than her room had been in the condominium in Los Angeles. She had to give up her window seat, but that wasn't the end of the world – her room in this place opened to a small balcony, and Jenny promised her she could have sunflowers and tulips out there. She hadn't allowed it at the other place because of bugs – and Natalie's age.

The duplex was a breath of fresh air; it was on a hidden street, there was ivy crawling alongside the shutters outside, and best of all – the place they shared a wall with was empty; it allegedly hadn't had a tenant in years because it was haunted.

Natalie had liked that story, so Jenny had taken the money she'd received from her sale of the condo, and made an offer – and here they were. San Diego – miles away from Melanie; hundreds of miles away from where Jenny had started.

"Natalie," she said, walking into the sunlit room with two pails of paint. "Is this really what you want to do on your birthday?" she asked, slightly bemused.

She set down the unopened bucket of deep, vibrant blue, and then folded her arms, looking around the taped up and spackled room. It was ready to be made into a _space_.

"I had no problem taking you up to see Logan or London or Elaina or Louise," she said, listing off some of Natalie's friends. "Melly would have let you have a small party at her old place. It's always empty, anyway."

Melly and Max has purchased a veritable mansion in a historic district outside of L.A. a couple of months ago, while the Kate fiasco had still been in full swing. Helping them move, and decorate, had often been a welcome distraction for Natalie. In typical Melly fashion, however, the condominium had been kept in her name and ownership – it was already paid off, after all, and she liked having it there _just in case._

Natalie took a pencil from the bun in her hair and eyed its sharpened edge carefully before turning to look at her mother – she was kneeling on the bed, carefully stenciling, in light pencil, constellations on the wall. They were going to be painted in cream, on a background of inky navy – Natalie wanted to sleep surrounded by Sirius, Orion, and Scorpio.

Jenny was letting her decorate her room however she wanted. Natalie hadn't asked, but Jenny felt like she deserved it – especially since she'd uprooted her so suddenly in the middle of the school year.

"It's okay," Natalie said in her soft, easy voice. "London is in Aspen," she added thoughtfully.

"Aspen?" Jenny snorted. "What about school?"

Natalie shrugged, sitting down on the bed with a bounce and leaning forward. She fluttered her lashes.

" _Darling_ London doesn't bother with things as proletariat as school, _Mama_ ," she drawled, affecting a snobby accent.

Jenny laughed.

"Proletariat?" she quoted. "Is that the word of the week, Bug?"

Natalie bit down lightly on the eraser of her pencil.

"The word of the week is _cartouche_ ," she said matter-of-factly. "I like how proletariat sounds."

"And what does cartouche mean?" Jenny asked – though she knew, and Natalie knew she knew. One did not permanently wear an Egyptian ankh around her neck and not know the finer details of some ancient lore.

"Royal seals of the pharaohs," Natalie announced. "Mom, have you ever seen a mummy?"

Jenny suppressed a shudder. She'd used to have a small fascination with all things Egyptian, since her father had brought her back the necklace from his time in Cairo and promised to take her there –before he left the Army. But not since Kate – since Kate, she lost her interest in mummification.

"No," she said. She gave Natalie a serious look. "If you lay eyes on them, you're cursed for all eternity," she deadpanned.

"Oh, please."

"If you see one's face, you turn to stone."

"That's Medusa," Natalie said primly.

"If you hear one scream, you will surely die soon."

"Banshees," Natalie corrected.

"If one bites you, you become immortal at a terrible price – "

"I read _Dracula_ , Mom," Natalie said, rolling her eyes.

"I told you _not_ to read _Dracula_."

"You told me not to read _Interview with the Vampire_ ," she corrected.

"Let me guess – "

"No, I didn't," Natalie soothed. "I saw the movie."

Jenny glared at her.

"You – _who_ took you to an R rated – _what_ in the hell – Natalie _Winter_ – !"

Natalie bared her teeth, and giggled, falling back on the bed.

"Can I read the book now?"

"No, I'm taking you to Church on Sunday."

"I'll just burst into flame," Natalie deadpanned. "Pyrotechnics are not a winning way to introduce yourself to a new congregation."

"Have you ever tried being stupid?" Jenny asked, arching a brow admiringly.

Natalie pretended to consider it.

"In infancy, I presume."

Jenny shook her head, grinning.

"Nah, you were smart even then," she praised smugly. "One of your first words was _squirrel_ ," Jenny said proudly. "Squirrel! Babies don't say squirrel. But you did – you grabbed my hair and shrieked _squirrel_! and it startled me so badly, I almost dropped you – "

"Mother of the year!"

"—but I _didn't_ because your father took you, and he went to let you see the squirrel, and then Grandpa Jasper came out and tore us both a new one for exposing you to a wild animal."

Natalie sat up, tucking her pencil into her hair. She looked at Jenny curiously for a moment, and Jenny was a little taken aback herself, that she'd mentioned Gibbs; she was usually better at not bringing him up. Natalie chose not to address it, though.

"Grandpa Jasper _yelled_ at you?"

Jenny nodded firmly.

"That is what happens when you are a child and you have a child," she said sternly. "Your parents are still in charge of you, and you are always doing it wrong," she imitated, her hands on her hips and her brow stern.

She laughed a little, remembering how it used to be – those days were long gone, and she and her father were on their way to having a perfectly mended relationship – if they could make time for each other more often.

She hadn't been very emotionally available to anyone while Kate's case was ongoing; she'd been distant and stoic to everyone but Natalie, busy trying to deal with the loss of her closest confidant, her first real friend in California.

Natalie stood up, leaning on the bed.

"Well, you were going to let me touch a wild squirrel," she said critically.

"Yeah, right, like you could have caught it," Jenny blustered.

"I could have gotten rabies and _died_."

"But did you?"

Natalie smirked, and tucked loose strands of her hair back. She put her hands on her hips and looked around, then zeroed in on the paint.

"Should we start?" she asked, looking up. "If we start really early and open all the windows, I can sleep in here tonight, I think."

"Like hell," Jenny countered, shaking her head sharply. "This room is going to air out for two days, at least – I'm not having fumes seep into your brain and damaging it, how will I profit off of you when you're older then? We're having a camp out in the living room, downstairs."

"Camp out?"

"Blanket forts, cookie dough, ice cream, the works," Jenny said. "I rented _Planet of the Apes,_ and your favorite _Star Wars_ , and also I found that VHS with like, seven episodes of season one of _The X-Files_ ," she listed. "All for you, babe. Happy Birthday."

Natalie smiled brightly, and then narrowed her eyes.

"My favorite _Star Wars_? Are you sure? Last time you got the wrong one."

"I'm sure."

"How sure?"

"I got the one with the big furry guy."

"Mom."

"You know, the one with the furry dog, and the guy, with the light sword."

"Mom, seriously?"

Jenny cackled. She smiled indulgently, and still had one last joke up her sleeve.

"I got the second one."

"The fifth, Mom, the fifth!"

"Natalie," Jenny said seriously, turning up her nose, "I can't help it if I was popular in high school and you're going to be a huge poindexter."

Natalie tossed her hair, glaring playfully.

"You know the secret," she threatened.

"What's the secret?" Jenny demanded sagely.

"Never let 'em know _how_ smart you are."

"But?" Jenny prompted.

"Still always be just a little smarter."

"That's my girl," Jenny said smoothly. She nodded, looking around again. "Yeah, let's get started," she agreed. "We can take a snack break at two, then wrap up for dinner – I'm thinking Chinese, to kick off _The X-Files_ , and maybe after that we run out for sundaes."

Natalie looked at Jenny for a moment, and then folded her arms.

"Mom," she said, hesitating. "You hate _The_ _X-Files_ , and _Star Wars_ , and – "

"I don't _hate_ them," Jenny said hastily. She didn't! She was just – apathetic towards these eerie, science-y things her daughter was in to. Not that she hadn't been good at or liked science; except science had been the reason she never really graduated from high school, so she was eternally slightly and secretly bitter towards the discipline.

She loved that Natalie loved it, though; but Natalie loved and was good at all academics. It just so happened that, as of yet, through all her fluctuation interests and moments of passion, her penchant for NASA and aliens had been constant.

"I like _Planet of the Apes_ ," Jenny said. "It's very political, at the heart, you know – a real genius commentary on nuclear holocaust, and there's also a very nice view of Charlton Heston's butt."

"You're annoying," Natalie told her affectionately.

Jenny bent down and took her chin in her hands, smiling wickedly.

"And you have nowhere to run," she hissed, narrowing her eyes villainously. She laughed, and pressed a light kiss to Natalie's forehead. She sighed as she stepped back, and knelt down to start getting the paint ready in small trays.

Natalie pushed hair from her face and then searched for a cloth headband, pulling the wisps back. She leaned down opposite Jenny, taking brushes out of their packaging, and caught her tongue between her teeth as she watched Jenny deftly pry open the blue paint, followed by the white.

"Can we paint the ceiling?" Natalie asked.

"Go for it, Michelangelo."

Natalie gave her a look, and then sat cross-legged, waiting for things to be ready, waiting for instruction. She could sketch okay, and she could learn anything from books, but with stuff like this, she usually wanted guidance, and somehow her mother seemed to pick up on how to do everything – from sewing to fixing – without instruction.

Jenny paused suddenly, and sat back, her fingertips coated with blue paint. She looked at her hands for a minute, and then looked up, gritting her teeth uncomfortably for a moment.

"Natalie," she sighed, looking at her apologetically. "I'm – I know I said we wouldn't move to San Diego in the middle of the school year," she lamented. "I know it's been a rough year, with Kate, and now – "

Natalie shook her head, her eyes soft.

"It's okay," she said. She lifted her shoulders. "I'm not complaining," she assured her warily.

Jenny bit the inside of her lip, staring at her – it hadn't been long after Kate's funeral that Jenny had been offered a transfer to San Diego. She'd initially turned it down, despite the advancement opportunities, because she thought uprooting Natalie would be too traumatic right after the loss of a good friend. NCIS had come back with a pay raise – an _entire_ grade up, rather than just two steps, and so Jenny had taken it.

She'd been commuting, a dreadful, traffic filled, hour-or-so-long commute, to the San Diego office in order to keep Natalie at Daisy Road Elementary; she'd promised her they wouldn't move until she'd be starting a new school, anyway. But the gas was killing her, and sometimes it meant Natalie was home alone after school for a bit until someone could get to her, and Jenny just wasn't ready for that.

She'd started looking for places, and not only had her condo sold out from under her so quickly she'd been back in Melanie's place for a while, this duplex has opened up and Jenny had to seize it. Therefore, right after Halloween and before her birthday, Jenny had taken Natalie from the only school she'd ever known and thrown her, mid-year, into San Diego's magnet elementary, Tesla Elementary.

The good thing was, it was a magnet school, so the work and education was a caliber higher than a regular county school – but Jenny still knew it had to be difficult, and she felt guilty.

"I wanted you to be able to see your friends on your birthday," Jenny told her sincerely. "Bug, I really would have taken you there in a heartbeat. I'd have gone and picked them up and let you have a sleepover, even."

Natalie frowned, and drew her knees up.

"I didn't," she started, frowning again. "Mommy," she said, hesitating. "I wanted to just spend it with you because, um, because," she sighed. "I didn't mind moving, okay?" she said. "I like San Diego. It's nice. I like moving around."

"It must be in your blood," Jenny said dryly.

"I'm not having trouble adjusting," Natalie said. "It's not that far. I want you to stop being sad about it."

Jenny looked at her hesitantly, and smiled, blinking heavily.

"You don't have to be so brave all the time, you know," she told her. "I know I haven't always been perfect."

Natalie shrugged.

"I'm not brave," she said bluntly. "I'm happy."

Jenny considered that with slight surprise; it was such a wise, insightful thing to say. She smiled and leaned forward, kissing Natalie's cheek. She lingered a moment, and then sat back, taking a deep breath.

"Well, I still had one more bribe for you, as it were," she confessed, "to reward you for putting up with – you know, me, your annoying mother," she laughed. She bit her lip. "You know, Cap has his promotion ceremony in D.C., in spring," she began.

She meant Max – Max was being promoted again, except this time he was being named a Brigadier General, and it was in conjunction with some other award ceremony. He and Melly were returning from Bulgaria by Christmas, and the ceremony was in May.

Natalie nodded.

"He invited us to go, as guests," Jenny revealed. "And I decided – well, other than Disneyland, we've never really taken a vacation, and I heard they have this little place called the Air and Space Museum – "

"Mom," Natalie broke in, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Shut-up."

"Natalie," she said shortly, "I don't care if it's colloquial, I hate it when you say that."

Natalie covered her mouth, her eyes crinkling with excitement.

"So we're going to go see Cap get his promotion, and we're going to stay and see the museum, and the monuments, and there's a place in Maryland – it's not the main NASA, but you can see speakers there – "

"Goddard Space Flight Center," Natalie squealed, bouncing. "They manage the Hubble telescope!" she screamed.

"Hubble?" Jenny asked, feigning ignorance. "What's Robert Redford got to do with this?"

Natalie was too excited to even glare at her – it was the ten millionth time she'd made that _The Way We Were_ joke, anyway. Natalie leapt up, yanking on the dog tags around her neck as she jumped up and down. They jingled.

"You can see the Constitution there, too – and the Declaration of Independence – oh my God," she said, collapsing to the ground again. "I can't wait. Oh my God. I'm so glad we moved to San Diego. I'm so glad you feel so guilty."

Jenny laughed, delighted by her daughter's reaction – she'd been so excited to tell her, and planning and saving money for this was going to be her sole focus for the next few months.

It was a good thing, and Natalie deserved it – she was the perfect age for a trip to the Capitol, Jenny thought; Jenny had been her age when they first visited, and she got a tour of the Pentagon and the White House, thanks to her father. She'd always hoped she was going to see President Carter slinking around, but Jasper had told her he was too busy with the Iranians to come talk to little ponytailed girls in the Green Room.

"Do you think I'll see President Clinton?" Natalie gasped – like mother, like daughter.

"I don't know, Nat, I think he's too busy with ignoring Rwanda's genocide," Jenny said pointedly.

Natalie sighed, and nodded solemnly. She brightened.

"At least he'll declare peace in the Middle East," she said astutely.

Jenny shook her head.

"Hmm-mm. The only people who can do that are the people who live in it," she told her firmly. "No one imposes peace on people, Nat; they have to want it themselves."

Natalie nodded, and filed the information away. She put her hand under her chin and smiled brightly, large blue eyes fixed on Jenny. Jenny smiled at her, and arched her brows.

"It will be a good elementary school graduation present, huh?" she asked.

Natalie nodded vigorously, her eyes shining. She squealed again and jumped up, dashing around her room. She took her Word-of-the-Day calendar off her bedside table and started flipping, her lips moving, counting the days, no doubt.

Jenny wiped her blue fingers on her dusty jeans, pausing from the work as she watched her – she wished she wouldn't count so fast, move so fast, wish the weeks away – Natalie turning was so hard, the double digits seemed so intimidating, so unbelievable – because this meant one step closer to eleven, and then twelve, and then _thirteen,_ and Jenny always had the sneaking apprehension that Natalie might combust into a wild child, or get caught up with a boy, or run away to find her father - she wanted her to stay in Elementary school forever.

Right now, in the midst of finally recovering from and moving on from Kate's death, moving to a new place and taking on more responsibility at work – she was working hard to keep Natalie interested in school and wholesome activities, to be a confidant and a mother, and to balance authority with a bond that would ensure Natalie never felt the alienated need to rebel.

* * *

Economy class or not, Jenny had decided she and Natalie were going to dress up to fly – just like they used to when flying first became a commercial luxury, and it was such a privilege you didn't get on a Boeing looking like a slob.

The whole experience had Natalie barely containing her elation, and they weren't even in D.C. yet – hell, they weren't even off the tarmac. The plane's engines had been humming lightly, but takeoff was a little delayed – not that Natalie minded.

"The faster we takeoff, the faster I get a drink," Melanie had sighed, agitated. Despite her love of travel, she hated flying.

Natalie looked at her with interest, twisting in her seat.

"You can have alcohol on planes?" she asked.

Melanie nodded seriously.

"Of course, Darling, else no one would fly."

Jenny rolled her eyes, and shook her head.

"People fly sober every day, Bug."

"I think _I_ need a drink," she joked wryly. "Shaken, not stirred."

"Ha, ha. Cute."

Natalie turned and glanced at Max, and then waved her hand at her face, making fun of Melanie good-naturedly.

"Max, one pilot to another, can't you _do_ anything?" she swooned.

Melanie gave her a little smile.

"You'll be whistling a different tune when you see how far up we are," she warned.

"Nonsense," Natalie said primly. "Statistically speaking, planes are the safest way to travel."

"She's quoting _Superman_ ," Max said seriously.

"No, Cap," Natalie said, deadpan. "I'm quoting science."

Max snorted at her, amused, and she turned back around, settling down for the long haul. The plane began to move, and Melanie gave a little sound of annoyed relief, slamming her window shut. Natalie giggled.

"She flies all the time," she said. "Doesn't she get used to it?"

"She hates it," Jenny said gently. "Like – you used to pick up spiders and show them to me, and I hate them, and I never got used to it."

"Ha," Natalie laughed. "Yeah, you'd scream and then try to act like it was cute."

"It was literally never cute."

Natalie beamed smugly. She leaned over, and looked out the window, at the scenery flying by – faster and faster.

"I should be the one scared," she said, in such a logical tone that Jenny was unsure if she was getting nervous – as the plane rose into the air – or if she was just stating a fact. "It's my first flight."

Jenny shook her head, her brow knit lightly.

"No – don't you remember coming to California?" she asked curiously.

Natalie looked at her with interest.

"We came here on a plane?"

"I sure didn't hitchhike from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles," Jenny said dryly, remembering how terrifying that flight had been – when she'd packed her bags, while her father was away, told Jackson she was going to visit Allison Flynn in New Jersey, and boarded a plane in Philadelphia without looking back. "I didn't even buy you a ticket. You sat on my lap."

Natalie tilted her head, thoughtfully wracking her brains. She blew air out through her lips, rustling strands of hair, and then opened her mouth hesitantly.

"Did someone give me a juice box?" she asked.

Jenny nodded.

"Yes," she confirmed quietly. "The mother in front of us – I wasn't prepared to take a toddler on a long trip, much less on a plane, and I didn't have anything to help with your ears popping. She gave me one of her kids' snacks; said he was old enough to deal quietly."

Natalie touched her ears thoughtfully, and winced a little; they were popping right now, but she was old enough to just – well, it hadn't really bothered her too much. Natalie looked at Jenny with uncertainty.

"Where did we take the bus?" she asked.

"The bus?"

"The long bus ride, when I braided your hair into that huge knot while you were asleep."

Jenny's brow creased, and then relaxed.

"Oh, the Greyhound," she remembered, nodding. "Well, ah, we went to South Carolina."

"Oh, the island," Natalie said breezily. "Daddy was there."

Jenny nodded carefully; warily. Natalie leaned back into her seat, and reached up to touch her dog tags. She looked at them, her eyes intent, and Jenny braced herself, scrambling something together to say. Natalie puckered her lips.

"I hope it's okay that I kept these," she said abruptly, a wrinkle in her brow creasing.

Jenny nodded.

"It's okay," she promised. "He wanted you to keep them."

Natalie nodded absently, her eyes flicking over the words. She turned suddenly.

"Cap, what does this mean?" she asked, pointing something out.

"Blood type," he grunted.

"No – I know that, this – 'no pref."

Max squinted, and then nodded.

"No pref – means no religion, the soldier – "

"Marine," Jenny corrected softly.

"—Marine doesn't care if he's buried a certain way, with a Rabbi or a Priest or somethin'."

Natalie put the dog tag in her mouth.

"Natalie, I swear – why do you insist on chewing on this thing – "

"I don't know!"

"You're going to ruin your mouth – do you want braces?"

Natalie let the necklace fall out of her mouth and gave Jenny a dubious look. Melanie leaned forward a little and rested her forehead on the back of Jenny's chair.

"Where the hell is that beverage cart?"

Jenny laughed, and swirled her finger in the air, gesturing for Natalie to turn around. She slouched down a bit, more on level with her daughter, and crossed her arms, turning to look at her.

"So," she began seriously. "How did you decide to pass the time?"

Natalie's chief concern had been the flight hours – she knew she'd be too excited to sleep, and their flight wasn't early or late enough for it to be easy to fall asleep, anyway. She'd been coming up with ways to entertain herself so she could make the trip seem shorter.

"Well," Natalie began matter-of-factly. "I brought a summer reading book with me – _summer reading_ ," she reiterated, excited. "Sixth graders have to read _To Kill A Mockingbird."_

"Of course," Jenny agreed – fantastic book; she was glad Natalie was reading it.

"I might do some chapters of that. And I brought a highlighter to highlight in it, because Brent told me that helps retain information in middle school."

"True, very true," Jenny said seriously. She didn't react to Natalie's mention of Brent Langer – Brent had remained a teacher at Daisy Road; he and Jenny had a cordial relationship, and Natalie still regarded him as a mentor and an excellent teacher.

He had stayed late with her at school a few times, when Jenny was struggling with the nightmare San Diego commute.

"I also brought _Contact_ ," she said, taking a battered, well-loved novel out of her backpack. "If I get really restless, I'm going to read this again, because it always makes me feel like I'm not even in the present."

Jenny resisted the urge to giggle at Natalie's description of reading, and instead nodded solemnly – she was such an engaging little girl, so smart. It hadn't ever really stopped surprising Jenny. Natalie had read that novel dozens of times, since she'd first gotten it.

"And I'm also going to write a letter to Carl Sagan and ask him if I can save a spot for myself on his team, whenever I finish college," she said seriously, "and I'm going to write a letter to Tali, and a post card for Ziva, because Tali said she wants a San Diego post card for her collection."

Jenny nodded, and then paused, her brow creasing.

"Natalie, are you supposed to be writing to those girls?" she asked worriedly – Tali and Ziva David where the half-sisters of Ari Haswari, the man who had betrayed Kate last year.

"Tali's my pen pal."

"I know," Jenny said earnestly. "I know, and I know she sent you a letter about Kate, but I never got an answer from Agent Franks – "

"He called our house," Natalie said breezily. "One day while you were in San Diego. I talked to him. He said they weren't in danger."

After Ziva had handed her brother over to Mossad, Interpol, Gitmo, and basically anyone else who was looking for him, the CIA and NCIS had relocated her, her sister, and her mother to the United States. A couple of months later, Natalie received a letter from Tali David, which had gone to Jackson St. James, at Kate's old address – in it was a little note, and two post cards Kate had been planning on sending to Natalie from Israel; she'd accidentally left them in Beer Sheba when she visited.

"Natalie, please don't talk to federal agents without telling me about it."

"Okay," Natalie said breezily. She frowned. "I wasn't being deceptive; I forgot."

"You're sure it's okay to write?" Jenny clarified.

Natalie nodded vigorously.

"Yes, _Mom_ – I wouldn't do it if it might hurt Tali or Ziva. Tali's starting sixth grade, too, except in her school, you have to read _Huckleberry Finn_."

"Really? That book was banned in Stillwater," Jenny said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Natalie asked.

"Because Stillwater has lots in common with the Dark Ages," Jenny said brightly.

Natalie laughed.

"I wanted to maybe meet Tali while we were in D.C., but she lives in Virginia, so not Maryland or the capitol," Natalie explained. "And, they're going on a summer vacation to the Dalmatian coast."

"To see Pongo and Perdita?" Jenny gasped, feigning awe.

Natalie rolled her eyes, and elbowed her.

"It's in Croatia," she said seriously. She flipped through her science fiction novel, and then looked at Jenny thoughtfully. "I want to go somewhere like Croatia," she said.

"Me too," Jenny agreed. "When my Dad was in the Army, I lived in Pennsylvania, and then Texas, and then Virginia, and then Louisiana, and then California, and then Pennsylvania again. Dad got to go to places like Germany and Saudi Arabia, and Melly, used to go with him, until I was born."

"Why did Grandpa Jasper stay in Pennsylvania?" Natalie asked.

"Oh, well he and Melly were born and raised near Stillwater," Jenny said, shrugging. "Dad just wanted to go back, and Melly didn't."

"Why didn't you stay with your mom?" Natalie asked.

Jenny hesitated. She didn't want to explain that it had seemed best at the time, that Melanie was less of a stern, reliable caregiver and more of a carefree, best-friend Mom type.

Melanie leaned forward, though, finally in possession of a martini in a plastic cup, and winked at Natalie.

"I wasn't good at taking care of a little girl by myself," she said simply.

Natalie looked at Jenny.

"How old were you when they broke up?"

"About seventh or eighth grade," Jenny said. "Couple years older than you."

"And you didn't see her," Natalie said slowly, to Melanie, "because you were bad at taking care of her?" she reasoned.

Melanie laughed a little, brows going up.

"I didn't want to do it full time," she admitted honestly. "I saw her, plenty, darling. She had summers with me."

Natalie looked at Jenny again, and Jenny nodded.

"I went to see her when I was pregnant with you, even," she said. She leaned closer. "And no one in California was mean to me about it," she whispered.

Natalie looked at Jenny curiously, something brewing in her blue eyes. She rested her chin on her palm thoughtfully, and then lifted her shoulders.

"Aren't you mad at her for not wanting you?" she asked intently.

It was a justified question, Jenny supposed, but she immediately realized what territory they were in, and she didn't know how she'd let it get this far without realizing where it was going. She felt panic rise in her throat, torn between changing the subject and violently insisting to Natalie that Gibbs had very much wanted her –

"I wanted her," Melanie said breezily, taking over for Jenny in a heartbeat. "I wanted to have all the fun and none of the work, Natalie, and that's why I let her father raise her. She needed to be told no, and all I wanted to do was paint her nails."

Natalie pursed her lips. She looked like she was about to argue, and then her face changed. She tilted her head back, her expression soft, and she turned her head on the seat and eyed Jenny with soulful little eyes that looked just like her father's.

"Did you ever wish she was around all the time, Mom?" she asked thoughtfully, her voice quiet and unassuming; pensive.

Jenny hesitated, and then leaned closer, resting her own chin on her palm, and nodded.

"Of course, Bug," she confessed huskily, wrinkling her nose. "But I'm okay, don't you think?" she asked earnestly.

She didn't know what Natalie would think about that; she was okay, sure, she was doing fine; she knew Natalie loved her and respected her, but she'd also had a baby when she was sixteen, and people were always trying to blame that on someone – and she felt her old, stale, usual guilt, because when she asked that question, she was asking more because she selfishly didn't want Natalie pining over empty places in her life, not right now – but she did wonder when the day was going to come that Natalie inevitably and without subterfuge or subtlety asked, point-blank, what the hell had happened to her father.

* * *

Jenny was sure Natalie had never been happier in her young life. She had a new NASA ball cap on her head – which a guest speaker had placed there himself – and a _Maryland Science Center_ t-shirt on, looking a little fashionably-grungy over the skirt she'd been wearing. She'd had lunch at the Baltimore Inner Harbor, and the day wasn't even over yet.

"I know I told Cap that nothing was cooler than him cutting his cake with his ceremonial sword," Natalie said, her eyes shining. "But the astronaut was cooler – don't tell him though, his feelings will be hurt."

"I won't tell him," Jenny assured her, laughing amiably. Natalie had been fascinated by the pomp and circumstance of the military ceremony four days ago – but each day had been increasingly more fascinating since then.

She'd, naturally, enjoyed the Air and Space museum, but she'd also been taken with the museums of Natural History and American History – she'd gloried in the trek from monument to monument, and squealed when she placed her hand on gates surrounding the White House.

Despite how exhausting being a tourist foot soldier was, it was all made easy because Natalie was taking every advantage of being here; she was really loving every moment, and Jenny thought it was worth every penny.

They were on the metro line, now, having gotten off their bus from Baltimore in the furthest stop in Maryland. It would be a decent ride back into the city, and Natalie liked standing, holding on to a rail.

"Where did all those NASA geniuses make you want to go to college?" Jenny asked proudly.

"Harvard sends people to SETI all the time," Natalie said rapidly. "But, there were two people from MIT, and one from Yale – I like how _Yale_ sounds, just one syllable, that's all it needs, _Yale_ ," she said rapidly. "And University of Virginia, the nuclear guys were from there," she said.

"Where did that woman go?" Jenny asked. "The only female speaker."

Natalie thought about it.

"She was from the U.S.S.R.," Natalie said.

"We call it Russia now, remember," Jenny snorted.

"Mm-hmm," Natalie drawled skeptically. She clutched the silver pole next to her tighter, swinging closer to Jenny. Jenny pushed her ball cap up, and winked at her. "Mom, the primates in the Natural History museum were cool though, I want to study more of that – and I don't know enough about the history of anything, like Abigail Adams."

"Abigail Adams is my favorite first lady," Jenny said sincerely. "She was very influential, for her time period. I've got a book on her you can read, from a biography project in high school."

Natalie tilted her head thoughtfully.

"My favorite first lady is," she started, and then paused, thinking about it. "Dolly Madison."

"And why's that?"

"She braved fire to save something important to her."

Jenny smiled wryly – her mother's words rang in her ears; 'you've got a people-who-save-people' fetish. Maybe Natalie had it too. Natalie tilted her head.

"I should care more about politics," she decided. "There's so much politics here, all the signs, and people marching – it's like San Francisco, those marches they have, except here it's for _everything_ , all the time."

"The more you know about politics, the better informed your vote is," Jenny agreed.

"I can't vote until," Natalie paused, and quickly added. "Two-thousand three. Well – no, I turn eighteen then, but it will be past Election Day…won't it?"

"Yes," Jenny said. "You'll vote for the first time in two-thousand and – "

"Four," Natalie added swiftly. "Who do you think will run for president?"

Jenny laughed, startled.

"I don't know, Bug, that's _years_ from now!" Natalie still looked at her expectantly. Jenny sighed, indulging her. "Okay – well, hmm, let me use my political skills to analyze," She said, pretending to type away on a small computer. "Vice President Gore will probably run," she decided. "The economy is stellar right now, and technically everyone thinks Clinton achieved peace in the Middle East, and he's vaguely attractive, so Gore can probably ride that into office – if he wins, he'll definitely run for a second term, they always do, so," she paused, looking at Natalie.

"You can vote for Al Gore in two-thousand-four," she decided.

"Or?" she asked.

"What do you mean 'or'?" asked Jenny dryly.

"The other guy, there's always two."

"Natalie, we're Democrats."

Natalie put her hands to her head dramatically.

"Mom," she said seriously. "The Democrats would have let the Soviets beat us to space."

"Natalie," Jenny said seriously. "The Soviets did beat us to space. And John F. Kennedy put a man on the moon."

"But President Reagan did Star Wars."

"That is _so_ not what you think it is, nerd."

"Will you just make an educated hypothesis?" Natalie prompted. "Vice President Gore versus…?"

Jenny tried to come up with relevant Republicans of the day, who might still be around during that time, and she drew a blank – the Bushes would be irrelevant, thanks to the elder one's sad one term – she snapped her fingers suddenly.

"John McCain," she suggested. "Gore versus McCain."

"Who is John McCain?"

"He's a war hero," Jenny said simply.

Her dad liked him; that's why he'd come to mind – Jasper had mentioned meeting them up here, when she said she was taking Natalie, but he was caught up in something at work; he'd been dealing with some wannabe gang punks in Bloomsburg for about a year, but his retirement was coming up, so he wasn't complaining.

Natalie sighed, closing her eyes.

"I love it here," she said firmly. "There's so much _everything_." Her eyes flew open. "Was I really in France when I stepped on that lawn, on Embassy Row?"

"Technically," Jenny said. "Embassies count as foreign soil on my background checks," she drawled.

Natalie beamed.

"Maybe I'll go to college at the Sorbonne."

"Cool, I'd love to live in France."

Natalie rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Jenny's dogged insistence they were going to college together.

"You'd have to learn French first," Jenny warned.

"I want to," Natalie insisted. "Or Chinese. Or Russian, like you."

"Mine is rusty," Jenny said, with a grimace – NCIS was making noise about sending her for more training in it, but then, it was looking like Arabic might flare up as the language of the future, so maybe they'd let her stew in intermediate hell.

Natalie climbed over Jenny and curled up in the seat next to her, blinking tiredly a few times. She brightened quickly.

"We could go to Europe together," she said. "They used to do it in all the old societies, in England and in the Old South," she said, regaling Jenny. "In _Gone with the Wind_ , all the young boys went to a year in Europe – we could backpack," she said dreamily. "There's all kinds of museums in Europe. With older stuff. Older science. I could sit under a tree and let an apple hit my head."

"Slow down, Sir Isaac," Jenny murmured, smiling fondly. "It's not so easy to flit to Europe, my dear," she cautioned.

"I know," Natalie said earnestly. "But we could go when I'm older. Way older. Just you and me."

Jenny smiled at her, hunkering down a little. She hesitated, and nodded.

"I'll see what I can do, Bug," she confided. "You can graduate high school without having a baby, right?" she asked.

Natalie laughed, and nodded easily. She squeezed her eyes shut. Jenny felt a moment of grim satisfaction – she'd given her daughter the sex talk, like a modern mother ought to, except hers had consisted much more of ' _and this is how you DON'T GET PREGNANT'_ than an awkward, rushed explanation of how you did. Natalie knew, as uncomfortable as it might be, to come to Jenny immediately if she needed birth control.

Not that she considered the conversation anything but irrelevant at this point in her life.

"I think I can find a way to get you under some old world apples," Jenny promised.

Natalie hopped up as the train halted to a stop, and Natalie looked at the sign.

"L'Enfant Plaza, this is us," she said.

"We're Foggy Bottom," Natalie countered.

"No, we're meeting Max and Melly at the hotel before we go to dinner in Georgetown – we need to change into nicer clothes. Then, dinner at the waterfront, and the monuments at night."

"I want a picture with Thomas Jefferson," Natalie said seriously.

"You're in luck; I happen to know him personally."

Natalie rolled her eyes and Jenny draped her arm around her as they navigated out of the underground and up to the street, guiding her by memory to the hotel they were staying at with Melanie and Max. Her mother had her own room with the now Air Force General, and they were pretty much doing their own thing – which consisted of a lot of pampering for Melanie, and a lot of sports bars and golf with old buddies for Max.

He'd been at the Army-Navy club in Virginia with an Army colonel for almost three days straight, counting today.

Natalie walked close to Jenny, taking in the sights with vigor. She smiled at her surroundings, and took a deep breath as if trying to keep the atmosphere in her lungs forever.

She had never thought much about living anywhere other than California – well, she'd never thought about living anywhere besides Los Angeles, until they'd moved to San Diego – and that had been thrilling, in a scary way. She thought about moving all the way across the country – because she didn't really remember last time – and that was almost exhilarating –

She wondered if she'd miss Melly, and Max; but then, she didn't miss Grandpa Jack, or Grandpa Jasper. She had been little, when she left them, though.

"Mom, there's an NCIS here, isn't there?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Mm-hmm," Jenny answered, opening the door to their hotel. "I'm going by there to tour their cyber facility while you're at Arlington with Max tomorrow," she said.

Natalie took a deep breath.

"If you got a job there, would we move here?" Natalie ventured.

Jenny faltered.

"I don't think that's going to happen," she said.

Natalie bit her lip, and looked around the lobby. She was about to say she liked it here, when the concierge came over, looking frazzled, and Jenny stepped up to him. Distracted, Natalie went over to a table in the foyer, reading an announcement.

 _Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology – Summer Session Robotics Competition._

She peeked in to see tables set up, and staff running around.

"Natalie," her mother said shortly, suddenly looking wary. She beckoned her over.

Natalie hesitated, and then ran over.

"What's that high school thing?" she asked the concierge quickly.

Her mother gripped her shoulder tightly.

"That is a very prestigious High School in Virginia," the man said, glancing warily at Jenny. "For much science," he added.

"Natalie," Jenny said, distracted. "Come on – Melly's been trying to reach us at the Science museum."

Jenny swallowed, dragging her daughter away – the concierge had been frantic to tell her that Melanie had tried calling NASA Goddard and the Maryland Science Center, and wanted Jenny to come see her immediately.

"Is something wrong?" Natalie asked.

"I doubt it," Jenny said, though she didn't feel so confident. "It's probably Melly being overdramatic."

But Melanie being overdramatic was Melanie demanding someone find her smelling salts, not calling Jenny demandingly at government buildings. Jenny got out the key to her mother and stepfather's room, and walked in, Natalie skipping behind her.

"Is that her?" Melanie looked up, her voice hoarse.

Max came out of the sitting area into the hall, shutting the door.

Jenny took one look at their faces, and knew something was wrong; even Max looked forlorn, and Max always looked upbeat. She grabbed Natalie and pulled her close, draping her arms over her shoulders. She looked straight at her mother – Melanie's eyes were red, but she wasn't crying; she looked disheartened.

"Darling," she began, taking a deep breath. She compressed her lips, and then ran her hands over her knees lightly. "Your father," she said, pausing a beat. "Your father died last night."

Jenny looked at her as if she were something mutant, something unfamiliar. She felt nothing for a moment, nothing but an absurd urge to laugh – what a ridiculous thing to say, what a peculiar thing to joke about – her father, Jasper –

"I talked to Dad before we left," she said loudly, shaking her head slightly.

"Jennifer – "

"Mom, he's not even sick," she said – and she did laugh a little. She felt Natalie shift and look up at her, clutching her hand.

Max cleared his throat.

"He was shot twice at a confrontation with a local gang," Max said heavily. "The shock, at that age…he died of a massive heart attack."

Jenny looked at him, now, without seeing him, her lips trembling.

"He was shot? He was shot, twice?" she repeated numbly. "And he – and that's not even what – killed him?" her voice cracked.

Max stared at her; her mother stared at her. Natalie turned, grasping on to her.

"Mom," she said softly. "Mommy, it's okay," she said.

Jenny held onto her hands.

"Mom," she said desperately, speaking to her own mother. She shook her head. "He can't be dead."

Melanie swallowed, and nodded her head – she understood the shock, the pain; she'd never expected Jasper Shepard to go before her, even when he had been in the Army. She looked to Max, and stood up, reaching out for him.

"We're going to go with you to Stillwater," she said. "Max already called, he made arrangements – we'll take care of the plane tickets," she began.

Jenny leaned back, and stumbled against the wall. She sank down, pushing her hair back.

"Stillwater?" she mumbled, lost.

"The funeral," Max said gruffly.

Jenny felt nauseous – didn't he want to be buried in Arlington? No – his home, his parents were in Stillwater; he'd want to go there – there, in that cemetery where Ann Gibbs lay at peace, where Gibbs had fallen apart, where Natalie had cried and cried the day they put her grandmother in the ground.

"Stillwater," she mumbled again.

Natalie sat down next to her, worry in her large blue eyes. She put her hand on Jenny's shoulder and snuggled up, looking to her grandmother for help. Melanie smiled at her sadly – she didn't know what to say; she knew Jenny was heartbroken – and for it to happen now, when her relationship with Jasper was on the mend.

Jenny closed her eyes tightly and covered her mouth. Her shoulders heaved, and she took Natalie gently, pulling her close, and burying her face in her hair.

"I'm sorry I'm crying, Bug," she whispered, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "I'm so sorry. I know you don't like this," she said rapidly. "I have to do this now. I can't cry in that place. I can't let them see me crying in Stillwater."

She felt young again, silly, immature – but it was a point of pride, a resentful ache in her soul – she wasn't going to skip her father's funeral, not for the world, but she'd never wanted to take Natalie back there, never wanted them to look on her with their judgment and their upturned noses again.

In all these years, she hadn't been back, and to have to go back now – to answer questions from nosy people, to let them see into what had become of her and Natalie, under these dreadful circumstances – she couldn't imagine it to be worse.

* * *

The worst of it was, she didn't have time to prepare – not for his death, not for facing these dusty roads of her past– on Wednesday she was having the time of her life with her daughter at NASA Goddard, and on Friday morning she was standing in a small town graveyard, squinting in the sun, wondering why the sun dared be out on a day like this, holding her head high no matter how heavy it felt.

Everyone was looking at her. Her father was dead – their beloved, honorable, veteran police Chief was dead, and they were all looking at her – she was a spectacle, a lurid ghost, and the only thing that drew their greedy, side-eyed gazes more resolutely was Natalie, Natalie the myth, Natalie the child who had the gall to grow up far away from Stillwater.

It made her want to scream, the way they stared. She wanted to scream – _my father is dead. My father is dead, look at him, forget about me – I'm not an exhibit; my daughter is not a circus act._

Melanie and Max were there, but they were like invisible specters – outsiders, people no one saw. Melanie was remembered vaguely; Max didn't merit attention. They only hung around for the service; Melanie kissed Jenny's cheek before she ushered Max away, afraid to leave him exposed. They were staying in a hotel in Bloomsburg; Jenny was staying – in her father's house.

"So sorry, Jenny."

"He was such a hero, Jenny."

The platitudes meant nothing to her; they said them because they were brought up to, but they got closer to her because they wanted a closer look. She'd already forced herself through tight-lipped conversation with Deborah Henry, who gushed over Natalie.

Her father had been shot by some punk fourteen-year-old kid trying to be a big shot, someone her father had been trying to help. He hadn't fired back, hadn't tried to protect himself, because he hadn't had it in him to shoot a kid.

She hated that kid. She hated his mother for failing, his father for failing, and she hated the kid for thinking her father deserved to die.

"Hi, Jenny."

Jenny looked up at the soft voice – people were leaving, fading away, finally leaving her alone with her father, with the fresh grave and the dirt and the bloom of funeral flowers.

She squinted.

"Betsy," she said, without malice – without anything.

Betsy was holding a baby. Betsy had a toddler by the hand, and a taller child lingering behind her at her knee, and Jenny couldn't help but smile – look at what had become of Betsy Carmichael; exactly what Jenny was terrified of.

"Chuck's real sorry he couldn't come," she said nicely. "He, uh, he works a lot. He's – he owns the mines."

Jenny smiled, a thin, paper smile.

"That's nice, Betsy," she said mechanically.

Betsy nodded.

"Is this Natalie?" she asked. "Gosh, she's so big – she's beautiful," she added. "She has the same eyes as Leroy."

Jenny's smile tightened. She didn't say anything; she didn't want this woman to think the conversation would continue – she had no interest in pretending Betsy Carmichael had ever been a nice girl.

Natalie leaned into Jenny's side, and Jenny took her hand, holding it tightly in both of hers. Betsy hesitated a moment, and then nodded, and slipped away. Jenny noticed Melissa Fielding escorting the Preacher away; she threw a nasty look at Jenny – and Jenny had no idea what she'd ever done to piss off Melissa Fielding.

Jenny turned, taking Natalie gently.

"Come on, Bug," she said.

Natalie followed, swallowing hard, her face pale – she was intimidated by all of these people staring at her, and she usually didn't mind being in crowds or talking in front of them – but all these people seemed to know something she didn't, and the only familiar face was Grandpa Jackson's – and even his face, his kind, old, vaguely familiar face, was not entirely comforting.

She barely knew him. She barely knew this place – she remembered it more, now that she stood here; she remembered the woman who owned the dress shop, she remembered this cemetery.

Jenny took Natalie towards some trees, winding through the tombstones – she couldn't watch them shovel dirt on her father's casket; she couldn't stand to be there while they really covered him, really took him away forever. She had other ideas – she came to a stop, in front of a stone with dying flowers. She brought Natalie in front of her, and stroked her hair. She bent to kiss the crown of her head, and then crouched down. She nodded at the gravestone, resting her chin on Natalie's shoulder.

"This is where your grandmother is buried," she said softly, her voice unsteady. "Her name was Ann."

Natalie nodded, leaning forwardly – she touched the stone, the grooves; September, nineteen eighty-six.

"I remember her," she said.

"You do?" Jenny asked, taking a deep breath. Natalie turned, looking at her; she nodded.

"She used to sing," she said. "Even when she was sick."

Jenny nodded, smiling.

"She had a beautiful voice," she said hoarsely. "She loved you…more than anything," Jenny told her. "She was the only person here, the only person, who never treated me differently. She never looked down on me, or you," Jenny took a deep breath. "She loved us. She meant the world to me. Every day, I wish you'd gotten to know her better."

Natalie sat down in the dirt, careless of her nice dress. She looked at the stone, and looked around the graveyard. She turned to Jenny, her blue eyes inquisitive, but hesitant.

"The only person, Mom?" she asked, her voice sad.

Jenny shrugged; _c'est la vie._ She pushed her hair back, her fingers lingering near her temple, and then she lowered her lashes.

"Well," she said, very softly. "Her, and your father," she admitted.

Natalie blinked slowly.

"My father wasn't mean to you?"

Jenny blinked at her, like she was really seeing her for the first time today.

"No, honey, of course not," she said sincerely, unable to muster the gall to lie, or change the subject. "He took all the attention off me, sometimes. This whole town thought it was cute, when he had you."

Natalie turned, and stood up, pushing her hair back.

"Mom," she started.

"Thought I might find you here."

Natalie turned, and Jenny stood slowly.

Jackson Gibbs smiled at her gently, his hands in his pockets. She wiped at her cheeks, though they were dry, and she cleared her throat.

"Hello, Grandpa Jack," Natalie said, without prompting.

She'd already become accustomed to him; it was easy to match a face to a voice, and he'd won her heart with some homemade fudge. Jenny had seen him at the funeral, but he'd hung back at the gravesite.

Jackson scuffed his foot in the grass, and nodded at the tombstone.

"She did love you, Missy," he said kindly to Natalie. "And she loved your mama, for giving you to her."

Natalie smiled at him pleasantly. Jackson cleared his throat.

"Why don't you come on back to the store for some coffee, and some o' that fudge," he offered. "I don't think you want to dive right in to packing up that old house."

Jenny hesitated; she'd been cordial with Jackson – she'd actually spent most of her time with him since her arrival, letting Natalie get as acquainted as she wanted - but it had been a carefully shallow association.

She didn't feel like resisting, though; she didn't feel like being a bitch or depriving him precious moments with his granddaughter. She nodded, and stepped forward, beckoning to Natalie.

Natalie took light steps in front of her; her eyes wide as they walked the short mile back to town, and then down to the old General store. Jackson let them in – he'd closed up shop for the funeral – and then took them through the back, out the back path, and to the Gibbs house.

Jenny followed without argument, though she didn't know if she wanted to sit in his house again – she'd kept it all to the store, earlier.

"Grandpa Jack?" Natalie piped up cautiously.

"Yes, Missy Natalie?"

"Do you mind if I…can I explore the store?" she asked. "I won't take anything."

"If your mother says it's alright, you can," Jackson agreed. "You take anything you want – family discount," he said wryly. He looked at Jenny, and she nodded with a slight look of relief.

Natalie smiled, and ran off, back to the store. Jenny folded her arms, watching a moment, and then turning back to Jackson.

"It's hard for her," she said quietly. "This…it was only a year ago – well, less than that," she sighed. "Someone else close to us was killed. And she's sensitive to emotions, she knows people are…ogling her."

"Same old Stillwater, Missy," Jackson drawled, opening the door and beckoning her in.

She followed, and noticed he left the door open for Natalie.

"Your old man did a lot of good 'round this town," Jackson said, as he pulled out a chair for her, and went to start a pot of coffee. "That little gang – tattooing themselves up with poison tree frogs, callin' themselves gun smugglers, they ain't gonna bother anyone 'cause of him," he said firmly.

Jenny listened to mugs clink, to things bang around. She looked around this kitchen – living area; she looked into the living room where the fireplace was, where Natalie's crib used to stand.

Gibbs used to sleep on that couch. He used to sleep on it when Jenny stayed over, and the baby was his responsibility for the night. He used to sleep with her right on his chest, up near his shoulder, and Jenny was always afraid she'd roll right off him onto the floor – but she never did.

"I know me'n'him didn't get along," Jackson said gruffly. "Sugar?" Jenny shook her head; she wanted it black, right now. "I know…hell, we all made our own mess of things, couple years ago," he said. "But after you left, he was never shy about Natalie. He told everyone he had a granddaughter. Smart little thing. Lived in California."

Jenny smiled a little at that. Her smile warmed as Jackson slid a mug to her and sat down opposite her, taking a long sip of his coffee and breathing out deeply.

"You know who she looks like," Jackson said.

Jenny didn't have to ask whom he was talking about.

"Jethro," she said quietly.

"Ah, well, him," Jackson grunted, snorting. "Naw, Jenny." He pulled a photo out of his pocket – not just an old photo, an ancient photo, black-and-white, bent, and faded – of a young girl, laughing, while a tall man pushed her on a tire swing. "Her. Ain't she the spittin' image?"

"Who is this?" Jenny asked softly.

"Ann."

Jenny took the photo, looking at it. She smiled, feeling her eyes sting – still, she didn't cry. She folded it, and held her hand over it – Natalie really did look like Ann, but then, Gibbs always had a look of his mother about him.

"Can I keep this photo?" Jenny asked.

Jackson nodded.

"Got no one else to give it to."

Jenny felt a pang of sadness. She supposed – she didn't realize, that when she'd run with Natalie, she'd inevitably taken the very last of Jackson's family with her; Ann was dead, Gibbs could never get along with him – Jenny was awkward with him, but Natalie was a child, a sweet thing, all innocence, Jackson's last chance.

"I never wanted to cut you out, Jackson," she said, steeling herself. "I," she broke off. "I was very young. I don't know what I was planning. But I – it wasn't to cut you out. To cut anyone out, really. Not then. It was just…all about me."

Jackson considered her kindly, and nodded.

"I know it wasn't deliberate," he said nicely. "It just happened that way. I'm a man set in my ways. I wasn't going to go out to California. Knew you weren't comin' back." He shrugged. "You let her call. You…you let her call. You talked to me."

Jenny nodded – she'd done the same with her father, and it hadn't been enough. Now, it felt like so little.

Jackson looked down at his coffee, and then he tilted his head up, his smile a little pained.

"Does he see her?" he asked. "Leroy. Does he see her?" He didn't exactly wait for an answer. "I haven't spoken to him since…it's been years."

"Years?" Jenny said softly. She sighed, and then shook her head. "No. He doesn't see her."

Jackson swore under his breath. He shook his head.

"It's not his fault, Jackson," Jenny said tiredly. She licked her dry lips, and rubbed her forehead, smiling bitterly. "It just became…too complicated, for me," she said dully. "I…look, I just want you to know…Jethro always tried to do the right thing. I never made it very easy on him."

She felt Jackson considering her, and he cleared his throat gruffly.

"Well," he said, without emotion. He narrowed his eyes. "Leroy never made things easy on himself, either," he decided.

He lifted his gaze to her, and they considered each other for a moment. She tapped her nail on her mug, and glanced towards the door. She looked back at him, and licked her lips.

"You haven't heard from him at all?" she asked, almost wistfully.

"I got a general idea," Jackson confessed intently, his eyes on her. "You gonna ask?"

"I don't know what to ask," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "It feels like spying on him, checking up on him, tracking him, when I'm the one who asked him to stay out," she confessed.

"Curiosity only kills cats," Jackson said gently. He sat forward, curling his hands around his mug. "Last time I saw 'im, was when he came back for you," he admitted. "But I get holiday cards. Got phone calls for a while, 'til I asked about Natalie…hung up. Never called me back," Jackson laughed a little. "He doesn't sign the cards. His wife sends him."

"Ah," Jenny sighed, her chest throbbing uncomfortably. "I might have known," she murmured. "I get the cards, too," she confessed. She smiled wanly. "I thought it might be a new wife's desperate attempt to seem – welcoming."

"She's genuine," Jackson said gently. "She asks after Natalie, when we talk."

"I don't know if I like that," Jenny said huskily; sheepishly. She swallowed hard. "How, ah – how long has he been married?"

"Oh, about three years," Jackson said easily. "Nineteen ninety-three, they got married. In Hawaii."

Jenny nodded; so he'd been married that last time he came to see her, before he went to Quantico.

"She had a baby, about a year ago – well, now, maybe about two," Jackson mused. "Guess she'd be almost two, this upcomin' August."

Jenny, unprepared for that, just stared at him helplessly – Gibbs, a father again? Gibbs, with another child – a she? He had another daughter – Natalie had a half-sister? She didn't know why it seemed like such a betrayal – it wasn't at all; he had every right – and she herself, could have married Brent, and had more children…but it still seemed so out, so out of place; such a blow.

She tried to smile, but her lips shook.

"Have you met her?" she asked.

Jackson nodded, smiling broadly.

"Her mama brought her to the states, to see me, and to see her other grandparents," he said proudly – and Jenny felt jealous, but quickly, she tried to stamp it out. "She was just a newborn, then – she was born in Germany, see, while Leroy was in Baghdad."

Jenny's brow furrowed; it made no sense.

"They live in Paris, now."

She felt like shrieking with laughter, like slamming her head on a table – Hawaii, Germany, Paris? Gibbs – in all these old cities, these exotic places, married, with a new child – living exactly the life he'd promised her before she'd run, the life she'd laughed at and called a pipe dream.

"Paris?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

What the hell were the Marines doing in Paris?

Jenny sucked in her breath.

"I hope he's happy," she said.

It was something people said when they were being snotty, but she meant it – she truly did. He deserved to be happy, and she deserved to feel wistful about what she'd thrown away without giving it a chance – and it wouldn't do well for her to assume if she'd stayed, she'd be in Paris right now.

It wasn't the same. She had a good life – Natalie was growing up well; she hadn't necessarily screwed up.

But she sat thinking about Gibbs, and his together little family somewhere, and she thought about her own father, and how Natalie had seemed so puzzled, and so lost, in comforting her – maybe because she didn't know the pain of losing a father – and she felt hollow inside.

She licked her lips.

"What's his daughter's name?" she asked.

Jackson hesitated again. He cleared his throat.

"Kelly," he answered gruffly. "Kelly Ann."

Jenny nodded, sitting back dejectedly in her seat. She reached for her coffee, and then slid it away. She let Jackson stare at her, study her, while she tried to decide if she was a glutton for punishment, if she wanted to ask more. She decided she didn't; she didn't want to know.

She knew Gibbs must have picked his Kelly's middle name. Ann – Ann, after his mother, a mature choice, not the fumbling, grasping at straws that had landed Natalie with _Winter_.

Gibbs had been as good a father as he could to Natalie while he was a teenager – he'd been outstanding. Jenny could only imagine what kind of blessing he was now, with his wits about him.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jackson said suddenly.

Jenny turned her head, and met his eyes slowly. She smiled a very thin, sad smile, angry at herself, guilty – a little lost, and very full of grief, and bitter nostalgia.

"I'm thinking," she began softly. "I'm thinking…it's been, oh, nine years," she murmured, "and I don't know him anymore. And I'm still in love with him." She swallowed hard. "And he moved on."

It wasn't hard to admit; it just hurt.

Jackson said nothing. He sat back, studying her, and in the silence she wondered where Natalie had gotten to – she wondered if she'd run into some ghost of her father, or if some busybody from down the street had prowled into the store to see what had become of the little accident from nineteen eighty-four.

* * *

There was one good thing about being back – she felt suffocated. She felt the old haunting suffocation, the fear that she was stuck here – the worry that she'd lose herself in the cookie cutter people all around, the content of small town sameness.

She ached to leave, to get back to San Diego – to anywhere but here – but she had her father's estate to settle, and though Max and Jackson had both offered to take care of it, she knew it was best she do it. She owed her father that.

She did take Melanie and Max's hotel room in Bloomsburg when they left, though – it gave her a break, some fresh air.

It was a hot day in Stillwater, the summer already settling in, even in May, when Jenny took a break from her final day sorting through things, her final choice to sell her father's house – and she and Natalie walked down to the old bridge – after a brief tour through the town, a visit back to the dress shop where Natalie had played as a child.

Jenny sat on the rocks near the old, rusted bridge, her face guarded. She listened to water run, and she wondered if, somewhere down deep in these pebbles, there were still fragments of the jewelry box she'd broken eleven years ago, the moment her life had changed forever.

God, this whole place was full of pain, full of old memories. There was nowhere she could go where Jethro didn't haunt her, where she didn't feel like covering her eyes, clenching her fists – running away.

Natalie lingered down by the water, wetting her toes, exploring the wildlife. She'd let her hair down; she looked like something ethereal, something immortal, wandering around in the mystery of nature.

She climbed on a rock, and perched on her tiptoes, breathing in the clean, crisp air. She'd been quiet these past few days; sympathetic, polite, studious. She gazed around the river area thoughtfully. She was silent as she took it all in – she turned to Jenny, her eyes glittering, and smiled.

"It's beautiful here," she said.

She was a wood nymph; she was unbelievable.

Jenny leaned back, stretching her legs out slowly. She curled her toes, looking at the rushing water.

"You're romanticizing it," she told her softly.

"I love it," Natalie countered, spinning in a slow circle from her rocky platform.

She pushed her hair back, and Jenny wondered for a mad moment if she was going to start singing to the birds. She did look lovely here; she looked like she half-belonged here – but didn't she know she was all she was, because Jenny had taken her away?

There was no Berkeley science camp in Stillwater, no Girl Scouts – no real soccer teams, even; there was only boredom, and in the boredom, fifteen-year-old girls got pregnant.

Jenny looked over the water; she felt like screaming, but she settled for a slight roll of her eyes – leave it to Natalie to love Stillwater.

Natalie skipped a rock, and turned around gracefully, seeming to float off the rock. The jeans she was wearing were dusty, torn at the knee, and Jenny knew she was hot in them, but they hadn't had much luggage with them – not for Stillwater weather.

Natalie tucked her hair back, approaching Jenny in a light zigzag, stepping among the treacherous rocks Jenny knew so well. She stopped before her, and dipped her head, catching Jenny's eye.

She took a brave, deep little breath.

"I thought I was going to see him," she said, her gaze unwavering. "I thought he'd be here."

Jenny pursed her lips, her eyes cautious.

"Who?"

Natalie swallowed quickly.

"Daddy."

Jenny parted her lips. She looked at her for a long moment, and her shoulders dipped slightly. She lifted her eyes and glanced away, up at her lashes, willing herself to handle this as best she could.

"Oh, Bug," she said gently, turning back slowly. "He hasn't been back in years. There was nothing for him here, either."

Natalie tilted her head.

"You didn't leave together," she noted astutely.

It wasn't an accusation, or a question – it wasn't much of anything. Her mother had been so distracted this week; she hadn't noticed that Natalie was silently listening to everything, piecing together clues, quietly searching.

Stillwater whispers were loud.

Jenny licked her lips, her eyes on her daughter.

Natalie came forward, and sat down. She reached into her pocket, and pulled something out of it – a wrinkled, old, frayed hair ribbon, with her name written on it, and a picture.

Jenny's breath caught in her throat – she didn't know where that Polaroid had come from. She took it gingerly, as if it would burst into flame; there they were, Jethro and Natalie, sitting in the bed of his old truck.

She hadn't seen a smile like that on Gibbs' face since – God, before his mother got sick. Natalie had to have been – she may not even have been walking at that point. The ribbon was in her hair, and Gibbs was holding her in that way he always used to, so effortlessly; like she was free to go, but he'd never let her fall if she did.

"Where - ?"

"There's a storage room in Grandpa Jacks' store," Natalie said softly. She pointed to the ribbon. "Is that his handwriting?"

Jenny nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip. It hadn't occurred to her that Natalie's motive for exploring the store the other day had been – spy craft.

"He wrote your name on your things," Jenny remembered, half under her breath. "It drove me crazy." She licked her lips. "We fought about it…but to make up, he wrote your name on your nose, to make me laugh," she said, smiling a little. "The marker was permanent. Grandpa was so pissed."

"Which one?"

"Both of them," Jenny whispered.

Natalie rubbed her nose thoughtfully. She smiled.

Jenny ran her hands over the photo, and she clicked her teeth together, breathing out hard as if she'd been holding her breath – it felt a little stiff to breathe; it hurt a little.

"Mom?" Natalie ventured. She moved closer, and touched Jenny's arm lightly, comfortingly. "What happened?" she asked.

She didn't have to specify; it was clear what she was asking – what she was finally asking. It was so genuine, too, so naïve and gently curious and still – Jenny couldn't do it.

She had to force her words out.

"It just didn't work out, Natalie," she said huskily.

She had nothing ready to say – no speech, no story; nothing.

Natalie was quiet.

"I know it hurts you to talk about him," she said finally.

The simplicity of her assertion astonished Jenny. She looked at her, taken aback.

"Ever since I was little," Natalie said, nodding. "You were sad when he called. You were sad when I mentioned him. He makes you sad," she said. She touched her dog tags. "It makes you sad when I chew on these," she joked quietly. "I can tell. It's why I…I never ask. And I don't want you to think you're not enough. You are."

Jenny looked down at her hands – somehow, that made her feel worse.

She hadn't known Natalie thought about it; she hadn't known she picked up on this.

"It's a long story," Jenny said shakily. "It's long, and it's…messy," she said. She looked at her daughter. "I can't…talk about it yet," she confessed. "It sounds weak but maybe – I need to be in a place, where I can try to reach out to him," she said, "or…I don't know," she trailed off, shaking her head. "Natalie, I just want you to know…me, and him…nothing about it was _ever_ your fault. And he, he was a really good dad," her voice cracked. "A really, really good one."

Natalie's face was hard to read; she blinked, shifted.

She didn't say anything to her mother, but somewhere inside her, she didn't know if that was true. She didn't have any bad memories of her father – she had confused ones; she was sure she had thought the world of him – but why would they be broken up if he was so good; why would it hurt her mother so badly?

Natalie gave her a serious look; a pensive nod.

"Can I keep the picture?" she asked neutrally.

Jenny gave it to her, along with the ribbon, pressing them both into her hands. She held her tightly, searching her large, soft blue eyes for clues to what she was thinking – but Natalie had inherited an infuriatingly stony face – it wasn't expressive, it was guarded, like her father's.

Jenny wondered if this was a defining moment in their relationship; had she admitted to keeping something from her daughter, and would Natalie take it as a challenge – would this gentle empathy from her child survive the tumultuous teenage hormones to come?

"I love you," Natalie said. "I won't ask about him."

Jenny pulled her close and hugged her, pressing her face into her soft hair.

"I love you more," she mumbled, holding her tightly.

She wiped at her eyes, still determined not to cry. To think, she held this growing girl in her arms, and ten or so years ago –

She pulled away, and looked around.

"Natalie," she said, her voice cracking. "You know – this is where we were, when I found out I was pregnant," she confessed, her voice raw.

Natalie smiled.

"I cried and cried and cried," she murmured softly.

But all Gibbs had ever done was say was that he was going to take care of her.

Jenny took a deep breath, and turned to Natalie.

"You can ask," she said firmly. "You can ask. It's just...bear with me, Bug…I need time to know what to say. To say it right."

Natalie nodded, without saying anything.

She licked her lips, but she was nervous, anxious; she didn't know if her mother would ever tell her what happened, why Daddy had stopped calling, why they only got cards that didn't seem to mean anything.

She got up, and pranced on some rocks again, before turning back, and coming to stand in front of her mother again.

"There's a school in Virginia I want to go to," she said, with quiet confidence.

Jenny's brow furrowed; she straightened slightly.

"The University of Virginia?" she asked. "Cool," she said, her usual joke. "I'd love to live in – "

Natalie was shaking her head.

"It's a magnet school, like my one in San Diego," she said, determined but calm. "They only take people who pass tests and put in applications – it's a public school, but it has classes like…aeronautics, and computational physics," she listed.

Jenny parted her lips lightly.

"Where did you hear of this…?"

"I saw one of their programs, in D.C.," Natalie said tentatively. She pushed her hair back. "It's – it's something I really want. The school itself doesn't cost any money."

Jenny tilted her head, slowly digesting the words.

"You want to move…all the way to Virginia?" she asked, her voice pale – it seemed so daunting, but then, things like this must be in Natalie's blood.

Natalie licked her lips, and for a moment, she looked scared, but she nodded quickly, and hugged herself.

"I liked Los Angeles," she said. "San Diego – is nice," she added. "I know it was only a week but…I feel like I belong on this side of the country."

Jenny didn't blame her – Jenny could see it.

Natalie's highly scientific mind didn't fit with the go-with-the-flow, granola type of California and Oregon and Washington; she was a modern girl without the need to buck the system; she was a shrewd and calculating academic.

Jenny lifted her shoulders lightly, and tilted her head.

"It might take me a while, Natalie Winter," she said bravely, "but I can try."

It took no effort to promise her that, no sacrifice; she had promised herself she left Stillwater, and Gibbs, all those years ago for Natalie, for Natalie's well-being and Natalie's chances – and Natalie had so much promise, that if she wanted this, Jenny could do it – she could strive for it.

NCIS was going to offer to pay for her Master's, that much she knew; with the right moves, she might be able to swing a transfer to the Navy Yard, if she got in to a school up here – she might be able to get them here by the time Natalie was ready to start at this high school.

She stood and bent to kiss Natalie's head, hopping a path through the rocks down to the river. She stood, shoes and all, in the cool water, and looked at the trees, and at the old bridge.

She noted the parallels in her life; someone died, and she moved – she shook off the trauma, she tried to find a new niche. Ann had sent her careening to California, broken, young and lost; Kate had chased her to San Diego, older, wiser, in control; it seemed fitting for her father to send her to the east coast – there, she didn't know yet what she'd be.

* * *

"Don't break character; you've got a lot of heart  
and if they drag you through the mud  
it doesn't change what's in your blood."  
-The Killers, Be Still

* * *

 _Gibb's POV is next up - to prepare you, it will start back in 1987 and follow HIS path after the end of Stillwater High!  
feedback appreciated!_

 _-alexandra_


End file.
